Whiplash
by celtic-dreamscape-94
Summary: Lisbon is late for work, and Jane knows that never happens, so where is she? But then, breaking evidence is found for the Red John case. So which will Jane choose? Red John or Lisbon?
1. Chapter 1

_**Okies, first Mentalist fanfic. Hope you all like it! xx **_

_**( do not own mentalist or any of it's characters....damnnn. XD )**_

1.

Patrick Jane hummed to himself as he stood alone in the rising elevator. Another day at the CBI. Another day which could bring him closer to catching Red John. Or not. But whichever path the day would take, he had a feeling it was going to be a good one. He rocked back and forth on his heels as the doors opened, granting access to his floor. Walking out with a small skip, he went straight to the kitchen to retrieve his milk-first-truely-boiled tea before heading into the bull pen, destination: couch. Patrick strolled in and greeted the team.

'Good _morning_, everyone!' he grinned cheerily.

'Hey Jane,' replied Van Pelt.

'Hey,' said Cho from behind his book.

Patrick paused in mid step when no sound resounded from Rigsby's direction.

'Rigsby?' he glanced over at the agent's desk to find Rigsby slumped over his work space.

'What's up with him?' Patrick asked, gesturing with his thumb as he removed his jacket and flung it over the armrest on the couch.

'He's got a bad cold,' Van Pelt supplied the information with sympathy in her voice. Like anyone would when they're in love with the person concerned.

'Ah,' Patrick nodded.

'He's a wuss,' added Cho nonchalantly, flicking the page.

Van Pelt returned to her work, ignoring Cho's comment. Patrick took a sip of tea before sitting down on the couch, swinging his legs up and shuffling about until he was comfortable. It seemed like today was going to be one of those quiet, paperwork days, or quiet couch days as far as Patrick was concerned. Paperwork was for agents, not consultants.

'So...where is our queen bee this morning?' Patrick took a deep breath, shutting his eyes.

'Hasn't shown up yet, hasn't called,' replied Cho, still reading his book.

'Hmm, strange,' Patrick wriggled further into the couch before opening one eye and checking his watch, 'Twenty minutes late, tut tut.'

No one made further comments, so silence fell.

* * *

Lisbon barely managed to keep the phone at the level of her ear. Her muscles felt suddenly so weak. The words from the other end of the receiver reverberated through her head, through her whole body. Chills ran up her spine, her throat was feeling tight, closing up. Her eyes burnt with acid-like tears. Every inch of her trembled. Her mouth opened and closed as the voice continued, but she hardly recognized the words. It was like they were talking a different language. Her vision was blurry and she felt sickeningly dizzy. She reached for something to hold to stop her from crumbling, but everything was squirming and shifting. Her hand missed the table and she fell to the floor. The thud echoed into the phone, the man on the other end calling her name, over and over. But there was no one to reply. Lisbon was out cold.

* * *

Patrick cast a glance at his watch again. They still hadn't received a visit from Lisbon. She was now an hour late. He would be lying if he said he wasn't worried. Lisbon was _never_ this late; she didn't allow herself to be so late. Patrick shifted uncomfortably in the leather. It was impossible to turn down the itching feeling to investigate once it started. It was exciting, solving a mystery or a crime. So what if it pretty much always got him into trouble? But Lisbon would always be there for him, even if she wasn't always happy with it. What was life without mischief?

Patrick sprang from the couch and hooked his jacket, swinging it over his shoulder.

'Where are you going?' asked Van Pelt, distracted from her laptop.

'Oh, nowhere, just a wander,' Patrick smiled his best smile. Unfortunately that's what got Van Pelt suspicious. She cast glances over at Cho, and although he still was engrossed in the book, he seemed to know she was looking.

'Just let him go, what's the worst that could happen?' Cho paused, looking up at Patrick's sly smile, 'Don't answer that. Where you going?'

Patrick's face turned very serious, 'I'm going to raid Bosco's office.'

Cho's expression remained as straight as always, 'Your funeral.'

Despite Cho's coolness over the situation, Van Pelt panicked. "Jane, you can't, you'll get thrown in jail again, and you won't get out this time!'

'Meh. Lisbon will be my saving grace.'

'Please, Jane. Don't do it.'

Patrick smiled widely before setting off. He loved getting the team worked up. Well, saying the team, Van Pelt and Rigsby were really the only ones that got affected. Cho always seemed to have a deadpan expression, no matter what you said.

Van Pelt slacked and let out a huff off frustration. 'Will he ever learn?'

'No. But he's not going to Bosco's office," Cho replied.

'How do you know? Where's he going?'

'Bosco's always in his office around now, and I don't know where he's going.'

* * *

Patrick ducked into his little blue car after checking that Lisbon's vehicle was nowhere to be seen in the parking lot. The engine spluttered to life and Patrick began the drive to Lisbon's apartment. He hoped it was nothing serious. Just Lisbon having a day off or something....but actually, that did mean something was serious, she never took days off and considering she didn't even call with an excuse...

Patrick began his happy humming to take his mind off the worst. Everything was fine. He tapped the steering wheel in time with his humming. The journey passed quickly. Patrick soon found himself pulling up to Lisbon's apartment block, looking up at the building through the windscreen. He had been there only once before, and only because he was trying to regain Lisbon's memory. The place was simple with creamy couches and pretty pictures. It was small but comfortable and the kind of place he would expect to find Lisbon living in.

Jumping out of the car, he twisted the key in the lock, setting of a satisfying click, before heading towards the front door of Lisbon's lair. Maybe he should put a label on the door to that effect. It sounded good. Bringing himself back to the task in hand, Patrick reached the creamy white front door and knocked. He pushed his hands into his jacket pockets and rocked on his heels. Beginning to whistle, he knocked again.

'Lisbon!' he called.

No answer.

He put his eye to the peep hole in the door and looked around the warped room inside. His eyes widened as they fell on the still, crumpled figure of Lisbon, lying on the carpet.

'LISBON!' he yelled, banging the door in an attempt to get her to wake, 'LISBON!'

He searched around the vicinity quickly in search of something to get the door open with.

'Ahhhhh,' he muttered. Nothing.

His heart was racing. And he couldn't get to his Lisbon. He rummaged in his pockets desperately. Something. Anything.

Suddenly he remembered the pile of paper in his car passenger seat. With a paper clip on them. He quickly ran for the car, grappling with the door handle after unlocking it again.

'Yoink,' he murmured, grabbing the paper clip.

Returning to the Lisbon's door, he bent the clip out and started pushing it around inside the lock. A few minutes later, he was greeted with a click of the lock and he was in business. Rushing through the door, he pulled his jacket off and threw it on a couch. He knelt beside Lisbon, his hands hovering over her form hesitantly.

'Lisbon,' he murmured in her ear, 'Wake up, Lisbon.'

He checked for a pulse, breathing out a sigh of relief as he felt it travelling wearily underneath his fingertips.

Patrick rolled her over carefully and, snatching a cushion from the couch, slipped it underneath her feet. He saw her phone resting in her loose grip. Bad phone call?

Recalling any and all of what he had learnt about fainting, he turned Lisbon's head to the side and moved to the kitchen, dampening a tea towel before returning and pressing it tenderly over her forehead. He slowly rose to his feet, not once removing his gaze from Lisbon. Tapping his thighs thoughtfully, he wasn't really sure what to do. Until Lisbon woke up, he was in limbo...a moment's pause, and the perfect idea came to him.

'Tea,' he thought, 'yes, tea...'

He nodded firmly.

Revisiting the kitchen, he flicked on the electric kettle and fished a mug out of the cupboard. Just closing the door to the cupboard again, he noticed a picture of what he presumed to be Lisbon's brothers. They really must mean a lot to her. There were pictures of them everywhere.

Patrick smiled sadly, the image of his own family coming to mind. How much he missed them. It was immeasurable. If he hadn't been such an arrogant, self-righteous...hmm...he had to admit he still was...at least a little bit. But it was too late to change anyways. Everything that could have gone wrong, had gone wrong. And it was his entire fault. He still felt the warmth of his daughter's hand in his own sometimes. It made him weak. It made him crumble. But that would never show. Not when he had his guard up. He had to be brave. Brave for them. He shivered suddenly, the shadow of the feeling he used to get when his wife kissed him lacing over his lips. He ran a finger over his bottom lip slowly. His eyes were prickling with tears.

Suddenly he was snapped back to reality with the loud click of the kettle finishing. Blinking away the tears, he eventually located the teabags in a small wooden box on the side. Patrick dropped it into the mug, hanging the tag over the side and pouring in milk from the fridge. Adding the water, he turned and leant back against the side, absentmindedly swishing the teabag round the mug with the tag.

Maybe Lisbon would wake up in a minute. It would take his mind away from what it usually pondered on...

Ah, but she wouldn't be too happy to find that Patrick had broken into her house.

'Meh,' he thought, he didn't break anything, just picked a lock.

A couple of minutes later, he chucked the teabag into the sink and sipped on the tea slowly, staring into space.

* * *

Lisbon shifted her head to the side, clenching her eyes tight against the aching in her skull. She groaned, trying to remember what had happened previously. When it did return to her, it hit hard, and she already felt tears gathering and dripping down her cheeks. She was suddenly aware of a cushion underneath her feet and a warm, damp feeling across her forehead.

'Huh?' she murmured, opening her eyes wide and looking around. She weakly pulled the towel off of her face and looked around for the person who put it there. The only clue was a crumpled jacket lying on the nearest couch.

'Jane! Where are you?' she called weakly, immediately realising who the suspect was, and who had broken in.

Patrick suddenly looked up from his tea, alerted by Lisbon's shaky voice. He left the mug on the side and quickly walked over to Lisbon.

'Heya,' he smiled, looking down at her from on high. He was about to launch a query about the tears trickling down her cheeks, but Lisbon already had other things on her mind.

'You broke into my apartment?' she asked as sternly as she could muster.

'Ah, ah, I didn't break anything,' Patrick replied, 'I simply...picked the lock.'

'Seriously Jane!'

'What?!' he cried innocently, 'You were out cold on the floor! You could have been dead for all I knew. I wasn't gonna sit out there and pray you were ok.'

Lisbon stared up at Patrick for a while before offering him her arm.

'Help me up.'

Patrick gladly took her hand and gently pulled her up from the floor, catching her as she swayed and fell into his arms weakly.

'Whoa...are you okay?'

Lisbon chewed over the question, which only resulted in burning tears filling her eyes again. She shook her head roughly, a small whimpering noise emitting from her lips.

Patrick looked worriedly into Lisbon's eyes, 'What happened?'

Lisbon looked around, wide-eyed like a rabbit drowned in headlights. Patrick rubbed her arm gently, guiding her over to the couch and sitting her down.

It was hard to muster up the courage to say it, to admit it to herself that it had actually happened. Lisbon slowly worked over the words that would come to spill off her tongue. She moved away from Patrick and sat in the furthest corner of the couch, pulling her knees up to her chin and burying her face in her knees.

Patrick waited patiently. He wouldn't rush. He could tell this was something big. He wasn't about to go and ruin Lisbon's trust in him, however much there actually was. He wouldn't push in and try and read it off her body language, or come up with some extravagant reasoning. He would just wait.

Eventually, Lisbon began shaking her head softly, lifting her face from her knees.

'Can you just leave?' she asked quietly.

Patrick's brows knitted together worriedly. It wasn't often that he saw his Lisbon in this state. But he knew perfectly well that all she needed was personal space, so he submitted to her wish and pushed up off the couch, gathering his jacket.

'Please promise me you'll tell me...sometime?'

Lisbon nodded shakily, causing floods of tears to run down her cheeks again.

Patrick felt a pang of sympathy in his heart. He crouched on his haunches beside Lisbon, looking up into her eyes and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

'It's...gonna be alright, ok?' He wasn't sure how much truth that sentence held for her, because he didn't know what was wrong, but he hoped it gave her _some_ ounce of comfort.

Lisbon didn't nod this time, but instead looked away, trying to stop the tears in her eyes from escaping.

Patrick looked down sadly, stood, and left, closing the door softly behind him. He wouldn't leave completely. He couldn't. He would wait in his car, just in case Lisbon decided she needed a shoulder to cry on.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Lisbon's body began to rack with sobs. She couldn't understand why she had just sent away Patrick. She was desperate for someone to hold her, to make her believe it was all going to be alright...and she'd told the closest person to leave. She contemplated finding her phone and telling him to come back. Yet, she didn't feel able to.

She lay down on the couch and curled into a ball, the racking sobs making her ache, mentally and physically.

It had happened. Just like her mom.

* * *

Patrick sat in his car, gazing up at Lisbon's apartment, wishing her voice to sound through his phone and tell him to come back. He would feel guilty if he left now, knowing what state she was in. He could tell she wanted someone there to comfort her, but she had sent him away because she was confused. Muddled up. Lost. It pained him. Slouching back in his seat with a sigh, he hesitantly turned the radio on to the sound of Eels. He breathed in deeply, fishing his phone from his jacket pocket and turning it over in his fingers.

'5, 4, 3, 2, 1...anddd call,' he murmured. Nothing.

'5, 4, 3, 2, 1...andddddd...call,' he repeated. Still nothing.

Throwing the phone into the passenger seat, giving up, the message tone suddenly flared into life.

Hurriedly snatching it up again, Patrick flicked it open, only to be greeted by disappointment. Van Pelt.

'Where r u? VP.'

Snapping the phone shut again, he murmured, 'Not now Grace.'

It was another thirty minutes before the phone rang again.

Patrick woke from his light slumber, and turned the screen to face him.

'I need you, Jane.' it read.

Patrick was surprised how vulnerable it sounded, in just four words. He closed the phone slowly, and climbed out of the car, pausing momentarily to look up at the apartment before making his way forward. Reaching the door once again, he tapped lightly. A few minutes older, Patrick was allowed into the apartment by a tearful Lisbon. Standing uncertain in the middle of the room, he waited for Lisbon to close the door and tell him what was wrong. She moved to the couch again and sat down, looking at Patrick, silently telling him to come over. Patrick walked to the couch and took his seat next to her.

'Urm...' Lisbon started, '...How'd you get here so fast?'

'I was waiting in the car.'

Lisbon nodded slowly, a trembling tear streaking her cheek.

'Jane...my...' she trailed off, tears coming back full force.

'What is it Lisbon?' Patrick pressed gently, desperately needing to know.

Seeing her struggling over her words, struggling over her everything, Patrick took her hand tenderly and squeezed it, hoping to comfort her, just a bit.

'Jane. My...brother was killed.'

**_What do you think? Good? Bad? Lemme know if you think I should continue. xx_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Next instalment! **_**;D**_** thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews on the last chapter. Made my week. **_**:D**_** Big thank you to you all.  
( as always, will never own the mentalist....or it's characters....or paddy jane....only in my wildest dreams *sighs heavily***_** )**

2.

Patrick felt as if his heart had had a hole punched through it. And damn it hurt. It hurt for Lisbon. He knew how much her brothers meant to her. How much they meant to her after her father. And her mother.

'Oh Lisbon,' he murmured, 'I'm sorry.'

Lisbon nodded shakily, causing a fresh flood of tears to leak down her cheeks.

Patrick stroked the back of her hand gently with his thumb.

That was it, Lisbon thought. She'd just admitted it...there was no hope that this was just a bad dream anymore.

'Hey, come here,' Patrick motioned with his head, holding his arms out for her. There was too much space between them. It felt like a million miles. He needed to hold her. Promise her that it would be ok. Even if she wouldn't necessarily believe it right now. Even if it would never _truly _be ok. He knew enough to realise that it would never heal, but he also knew that having someone who would just listen, and be there, was the best thing possible.

Lisbon stared at the empty space provided inside Patrick's arms. She was glad that the consultant wasn't always arrogant and careless. Eventually concluding that that was where she needed to be, she pulled herself out of her ball and crawled along the couch, slipping into his arms. She nestled her head under his chin and gripped his shirt tightly in one fist. Silent warm tears ran down her face, dripping off and causing Patrick's shirt to take on a darker shade.

As Patrick felt the tears sticking his shirt to his chest, he held Lisbon tighter, conveying in the gentle, but strong grip that he wouldn't let her go.

'I...I guess we're...in the s-same boat now...' Lisbon said, persevering through the sobs racking her body.

Patrick's face fell. He squeezed Lisbon gently, readjusting so that his cheek rested on top of her head.

'You've still got family left...and this wasn't your fault,' Patrick told her, his eyes stinging with the telltale signs of oncoming tears, 'you're not in the same boat...you don't want to be in my boat...my boat's got holes in it.'

Lisbon's brows knitted together, tears for Patrick mingling with the tears for her brother. She snuggled further into Patrick's chest, longing for more of the warmth that he provided, and hoping to comfort him if only a little.

The silence that followed was all that was needed, all that was necessary. Nothing more was required, than just to sit there, holding each other. Never had they been this close...but now they were connected from the depths of their hearts. Strange how something so tragic could bring about the strongest bond...

Patrick shut his eyes slowly, the soft orange glow in the apartment still visible through his eyelids. He breathed slowly. He could feel Lisbon's sobbing subdue, and her chest beginning to steadily rise and fall. He would find out what happened later on, when Lisbon was better. But for now...he just needed to...shut his eyes...just for a bit...

Lisbon felt shattered as she closed her eyes against Patrick's chest. Everything, right from the phone call, had drained her, emotionally and physically. The tears had subsided, simply leaving dry tracks on her cheeks and her eyes slightly bloodshot. Shutting out the majority of the light, her eyes began to sting less and less...until she was asleep.

* * *

Lisbon slowly stirred, nuzzling into the warm cushion beneath her. Taking a deep breath, she sucked in her cheeks, blinked sleepily and lifted her head. She groaned as bright midday sun penetrated her tired pupils. Turning to her 'warm cushion' she found Patrick Jane, fast asleep...in her apartment...on her couch. Closing one eye and turning her head away from the sunlight, she pushed herself up; trying to pull back the memories of what had happened. Her eyes immediately began to burn as she remembered the phone call...but then a small, sad smile flitted across her lips as she remembered the way Jane had been there for her...how she had called him back...and how he was here now, sleeping peacefully on the couch.

A loud beep interrupted her train of thought. Searching for the source, she recognised the sound from her landline...and another beep resounded from her mobile.

Slowly pushing up off the couch, she hunted down her phone, pulling down the massive football shirt she was wearing, covering as much of her bare legs as the fabric would allow. Picking the mobile from the table, next to the landline, she flicked it open. It showed five missed calls; two from Cho and three from Van Pelt. Guessing it would be the same situation on the home phone, she checked that next. Two from Minelli, two from Cho and two from Van Pelt. They didn't let up, did they?

She would tell...maybe...tomorrow. Today was _her_ time. With added consultant. She turned her mobile onto silent. Running a hand through her hair and mussing it up slightly, she heard another beep. Seen as it wasn't either of her phones, she knew it was Jane's. Padding back over to the couch, she simply looked down at him for a while, silently thanking him for staying with her. Diverting her mind back to the task in hand, she gently pulled his jacket from underneath his arm, careful not to wake him. She dug around in the multiple pockets in search of the beeping phone.

Car keys...wallet...loose coins...lollipop...ah! Phone. She pulled it out and found four missed calls, from the same people as her own. Deleting them to shut off the beep, she turned it on silent and posted it back in its pocket, throwing the jacket onto an empty chair.

Now that she was just stood there, she realised how dry her throat was and fetched a glass of water from the kitchen, downing it quickly and returning to Jane. Lisbon sat down beside him, pulling her leg underneath her and watched him momentarily before shaking his arm.

'Jane?'

A soft murmur came from his lips and he turned his head away from Lisbon.

'Jaaane...' she rubbed his arm, gently trying to stir her colleague from his sleep.

'Hey, Jane!'

Eventually, Patrick's eyes opened a crack and he turned his head back towards her.

'Hey,' Lisbon said.

Patrick blinked hard, rubbing his eye. 'Hey.'

'Um...thanks for staying.'

'You needed me, I stayed.'

'Yeah...thanks.'

Patrick nodded. 'How are you doing?'

'Ok...I guess. I think the three hour sleep helped.'

'Three hours?' Patrick asked, surprised. One; surprised that Lisbon would happily spend that amount of time in his presence, and two; surprised that is persistent insomnia had been seemingly bypassed, if just for three hours.

Lisbon nodded, a brief smile flashing across her face.

Patrick yawned and stretched before looking back at Lisbon through sleepy eyes.

'So...will you tell me what happened?' Patrick asked softly.

Lisbon took a deep breath, briefly gazing into Patrick's bottomless bluey-green eyes before turning to her lap. She bit back tears, but she knew they would come charging as soon as she started talking. Her lips pursed and she swallowed dryly.

'Tommy...he was on his way to work, in the car...'

Patrick nodded, squeezing Lisbon's hand supportively.

'It was hit and run...drunk driver...' Lisbon's voice broke over the last syllable. 'Just like mom...' she sobbed.

Patrick's face contorted painfully, wrapping Lisbon in his arms as she fell once more.

'Shh, shh, shh...' he murmured, stroking her hair, muttering sweet nothings.

'It's gonna be ok, Lisbon, I promise...'

Patrick knew that promise was bottomless. And he knew it all too well. But Lisbon didn't, and that's what he was basing it on.

'I...I'm s'posed to be stronger...t-than this...I'm a CBI agent...' she mumbled, trying to roughly brush away the tears.

'Hey, you're not _s'posed_ to be anything. You are what you are Lisbon. If anything, you're s'posed to be like this. You've experienced the loss of a loved one. If you don't feel like this, you're not human.'

'My job...is who I a-am.'

'No. No it's not. You're Teresa Lisbon. Just Teresa Lisbon. The CBI is a small part of you.'

Patrick kissed the top of her head lightly.

'Just...shush a while. Be at peace.'

Lisbon nodded uneasily, burying her head in Patrick's neck.

'Just...shhh.'

Patrick felt scared when Lisbon was like this, even if he didn't admit it. It took a lot to douse the fire in Lisbon's eyes...and when it was out, for some reason, the world felt unstable. Maybe Lisbon was what was keeping him sane still, maybe she was the reason he wasn't locked in a psychiatric hospital somewhere...

Yes, he barely ever took notice of her advice, or warnings, but she would always try for him, never giving up. And maybe that's what it was. Someone that would never give up on him. And in times like these, that person, Lisbon, she seemed to be broken...not working quite the way she used to do...and that's what made everything unclear.

Maybe it was selfish to think, 'she's broken, I'm in trouble', but Patrick really did care about her. Not just himself. That notion wasn't the whole story. He wanted her to feel safe as much as he wanted her to be able to make _him_ feel safe.

How much Lisbon meant to him, meant a lot more than the concept of catching Red John. That much he had shown himself when he'd shot the only lead on the case down, to save Lisbon's life.

The fact that she was worth so much to him, allowed Patrick to take his mind off his family, Red John, if just for a while. And that's what kept him anchored in reality. It felt like something was shaking the rope that tied him down when Lisbon was upset, threatening to pull it up and let go.

Patrick kissed the top of Lisbon's head softly, stroking her arm and still whispering to her.

'I wanted...I wanted him to make peace with his brothers...' Lisbon trembled in Patrick's arms, 'And now it's too late...'

Patrick simply listened.

'They were always fighting...over something.'

Lisbon's eyes widened with tears as she broke down.

'Jane...I-I don't want to have to go through another funeral,' she cried, clutching him tighter.

'Hey, hey, shhh, it'll be alright...I'll help you...if you want me to,' Patrick murmured, stroking her hair carefully.

Lisbon nodded furiously. She couldn't go it alone. This was the third funeral in her family, and while her father's funeral was nowhere near as hard as her mother's, it still meant another family member gone. Now it was one of her brothers. One of her brothers which she had fought hard to protect through their childhood...and had now fallen despite her efforts...it wasn't fair. It was like whiplash. Building up speed, building up life, only to be hit from behind and left in pain, letting everything crumble away, grinding to a halt.

Suddenly, Lisbon could feel bile rising in her throat. She slowly unclenched Patrick's shirt...and then she ran for the stairs, retching.

'Lisbon! Are you alright?'

Ha, stupid question. Of course she wasn't alright. Patrick leapt off the couch in pursuit of his friend, following her trail upstairs. Emerging into a small, creamy coloured, tiled bathroom, he found Lisbon hung over the toilet, her face pale.

'Oh, Lisbon...' he murmured, moving forwards and gathering her hair back from her face. He rubbed small circles into her back as she held her head uneasily over the toilet, every now and then emptying a bit more of her stomach content into the basin.

Lisbon shook violently, her tongue rich with the sour, acidy taste of sick. She gagged. She didn't want Patrick to see her like this. He never saw her in this kind of situation, and it unnerved her to know he was behind her right now. Yet somehow, the small comforting circles he was rubbing into her back seemed to settle her stomach a bit more. Her eyes fluttered weakly, her whole body feeling drained and useless. How was she supposed to act strong leader at work now? When Patrick had seen her like this?

'C-Can I have some water...please...' she croaked. Her throat stung. Her mouth was full of acidy residue.

Carefully putting Lisbon's hair into a loose ponytail with a nearby hair band, Patrick stood up wordlessly and looked around. Spotting a glass on the white porcelain sink, he filled it with cool water from the faucet before taking it back to Lisbon's level and offering it to her. She gladly took it into her hands and sipped on it slowly, washing away the foul taste.

'Thank you...' she took a momentary break to say the two words before starting to down the water again.

Patrick nodded, threading an arm round her shoulders. This all brought back too many memories of what had happened to him, but he promised himself that he would stay. This was about Lisbon, not him, and he had no intention of leaving unless he had to. Lisbon began to sway gently, completely zoned out...

Patrick caught her, and handed her a tissue to wipe her mouth with.

'I think you need more rest, my dear,' he told her.

Lisbon nodded tiredly, wiping her lips over and disposing of the tissue in the toilet. She reached forward, pulling down on the handle and flushing it all away.

'Right, come on,' Patrick lifted her into his arms carefully, afraid of hurting her. Everything about her seemed to be fragile right now.

He carried her across the landing...past more cream walls...and into her bedroom. Although it felt all wrong that he should be in Lisbon's private space, there was no way he was letting her go until she was safely snuggled away.

Lisbon seemed to be trying to protest at him being in her room as well, but she was too weak to make any sense. Cautiously carrying her to the double bed in the middle of the room, Patrick ignored the temptations to look around at the photos and decorations adorning the surfaces and walls. He already felt as if he had spent too long in the room.

'I'll stay downstairs, alright? Need anything, just ring,' Patrick smiled.

Lisbon nodded slowly, pulling herself under the covers.

'Sleep well Lisbon.'

Patrick took one last glance around the darkened room, his eyes resting on the sleeping Lisbon momentarily, before he shut the door quietly behind him and headed back downstairs.

**:D _Enjoy? Not so enjoy? Review?_ ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Third addition. Thank you for the reviews for last chapter! Very much appreciated. Hope you continue to enjoy.**_

Chapter 3

Cho took a deep breath and finally pulled his eyes away from the words and letters littering the pages of his book. Both Jane and Lisbon were nowhere to be seen. Jane had been gone for over an hour now. Not that Jane was the one he was worried about. Lisbon. Lisbon was never this late. Not in his whole history of working at the CBI, had Cho ever experienced Lisbon walking in more than 30 seconds late. He silently made a decision, his expression remaining as flat as shaken lemonade.

Rigsby slowly dragged himself up off the desk and looked around through hooded eyes.

'Where's Jane?' he mumbled, grabbing the thousandth tissue, wiping his nose and disposing off the soft white material in his close to overflowing wastebasket.

'I don't know. He hasn't come back yet,' Cho said, folding the corner of his page and placing the book on his desk.

'He left?'

Cho simply stared at Rigsby.

'What?'

Cho shook his head hopelessly and stood up, gathering his jacket off the back of his chair and passing through the bullpen on his way out. He briefly greeted Minelli in passing as the CBI boss headed into the area Cho had just left.

'Where's Lisbon?' Minelli demanded, striding into the bullpen, looking around expectantly.

Van Pelt and Rigsby immediately shot up in their seats, the motion causing Rigsby to cough loudly.

'I don't know, sir,' Van Pelt said.

'She hasn't called _any _of you?'

Looking round, Minelli was granted with two blank faces. Cho's desk was empty, and a sad looking indent in the leather couch was all that was left of Jane.

'Ok, where are Jane and Cho?'

'I don't...know, sir,' Van Pelt replied again, feeling slightly incompetent, not having the right answers.

Minelli rolled his eyes impatiently.

'Cho just left though,' the young agent tried to make up for her lack of helpfulness by pointing towards the now moving elevator.

Minelli nodded curtly and marched out again in the direction of Cho.

Van Pelt visibly relaxed, her posture becoming slack again. The pressure she put on herself to be a good agent was a little too much sometimes.

'How are you feeling?' she offered to Rigsby.

The senior of the two looked back at her for a few seconds before dropping his head onto the desk and groaning loudly.

'I told you. You should have taken the day off,' she spoke sternly, maternally.

* * *

Cho stepped out into the sizzling Californian sunlight, pushing on a pair of black tinted sunglasses before surveying the parking lot. Lisbon's car wasn't there, and neither was Jane's. Working over the situation in his head, he guessed Jane would have gone in search of Lisbon, and considering Lisbon's car wasn't here, the first logical place to look would be her apartment. Locating the SUV, Cho pulled the keys out of his jacket pocket and pressed the button, causing the vehicle to unlock with a soft 'chunk'. He stepped up inside and dropped into the driver's seat, discarding his jacket onto the passenger seat. Slamming the door shut, he flicked on the air con, followed by the radio, and took the vehicle out of the front gates and towards Lisbon's apartment.

* * *

Patrick finished off his third cup of tea, humming quietly to himself. Since leaving Lisbon to rest, two and a half hours had passed by. He'd stood up several times and took himself on a tour around the pictures and various other objects in the room, but none of the information seemed to want to sink in. Maybe he was just worrying about Lisbon too much. There was never usually a time when he wouldn't be able to concentrate properly, but here he was, unfocused.

His shoes lay underneath the coffee table as he now lay out on the peachy coloured lounger, flipping a shiny quarter he'd found on one of the shelves absentmindedly. The soft repetitive chink of the metal against his thumbnail almost sent him into a hypnotic state. He watched the coin turn in midair, catching the bright sunlight leaking through the blinds and twinkling in his eyes every so often.

He sighed heavily, thinking of Lisbon. She should never have to endure such pain as this created. She was too innocent, too wonderful, for something like this. Tommy had gone the same way as his mom. It was like a healing cut being sliced open again, but deeper. Right now, Patrick could see the wound in Lisbon. He could see the blood flowing, the pain unhindered. And he recognised it all too well...

Suddenly, he was jolted out of his silent reverie by a knocking on the front door. Patrick snatched the coin from midair and froze, listening. Another three knocks. He jumped off the lounger and moved towards the door, pausing a moment before looking through the spyhole. Cho? What was he doing here? Ok, obvious question...but still.

Patrick quickly shifted out of view of the spyhole as Cho looked in, trying to find anyone inside.

'Jane! Open up! I can see you in there!' Cho called in, spotting the blur of Patrick Jane's shoulder flashing past.

No. Patrick didn't want Cho in here. Lisbon was sound asleep and he was quite happy just sitting on the lounger, waiting for her to wake.

'I'm not in here!' Patrick called back innocently.

'I'm not falling for that, Jane. What are you doing in there?'

'Damn...' Patrick muttered, a smile flitting across his lips. He moved back into view of the spyhole.

'Let me in, Jane.'

'No can do, Cho.'

'Why not?'

'Because.'

'Because what?'

'Just...because.'

'Let me in, now,' Cho replied. 'Or so help me I _will_ pick the lock.'

'...Don't do that.'

Cho put his hands on his hips.

'Let me in then!'

'Nope,' Patrick shook his head like a stubborn child.

'Open the door or I'll tell Minelli you and Lisbon were sleeping together.'

'Ouch...' Patrick replied, 'That hurts me Cho.'

'I know. Open the door.'

Patrick shook his head once again, a wide brimming smile taking over his features.

'I can't let you in,' he replied amusedly.

'You can't? Or you won't?' Cho said, fishing his phone from his pocket threateningly.

'You wouldn't...' Patrick watched as Cho flipped his phone open and dialled what he could only presume was Minelli's number.

Cho lifted the phone to his ear. 'Minelli? Yeah, we've got a problem with Jane and Lis-'

Patrick dashed for the door handle, pulling it open roughly.

'Fine!'

Cho paused in his sentence, letting Minelli's voice echo down the phone line. Hello? Cho? Hello?

Suddenly a cheeky smile lit up Patrick's face and he seized the phone, diving back inside and slamming the door before the agent could react.

'JANE! What the hell!?'

Patrick grinned happily from the other side of the spyhole, waving his prize in front of the small glass hole to the other side.

Still smiling, Patrick raised the phone to his ear.

'Yeah, hi Virgil. Cho's having a bit of an iffy day...doesn't know what he's saying...very sad...'

Cho glared through the spyhole.

'Give me the phone, Jane.'

'...the doctors don't know when he'll recover...no, we live in hope...I know he only just left the CBI building...he just lost it when he saw me...oh, harsh words Virgil...I'm not that bad am I?...well, love to chat, but Cho's just going a bit...y'know. Yup...Bye.'

'GIMME THE DAMN PHONE!' Cho yelled.

Patrick grinned triumphantly, snapping the phone shut. About to step forward and check the expression on Cho's face, he was stopped dead in his tracks as a loud crack radiated from the door.

'Um...Cho?'

CRACK.

The door was thrown open in a cloud of wood dust and splinters, the lock torn off the frame.

Patrick leapt back, shielding his face with his arm. He gingerly peered over at the splintered door...and Cho stood in the threshold.

'You're in trouble my friend,' Patrick said slowly.

Cho narrowed his eyes threateningly at Patrick and snatched his phone back.

'What...what's going on?' a quiet voice came from the stairs.

Locking his hands behind him, the consultant raised his eyebrows at Cho, rocking on his heels, before turning to Lisbon.

'Cho? ....What the hell happened to my door?'

'He did it,' Patrick motioned behind him with his thumb.

Lisbon looked from Cho to Patrick and back again.

'I can't leave you alone for ten minutes without you breaking something, can I?' Lisbon stared pointedly at the cause of most her problems.

Patrick's jaw worked open and closed, trying to think of an answer. 'Wellll...two and a half hours.'

Lisbon rolled her eyes.

'Cho, what happened?'

'Jane wouldn't let me in. And snatched my pho-'

'Oh come on! You were going to tell Minelli that Lisbon and I were sleeping together!'

Lisbon's brow knitted together.

'Wait, what?'

Patrick turned back to Lisbon again. 'Cho here was going to tell Minelli that you and I were sleeping together if I didn't let him in...so, naturally, I took the phone.'

'Why didn't you just let him in Jane?'

'Because you needed your rest.'

'And what? You think Cho would have come charging into my room and prevented me from doing that?' Lisbon asked, raising an eyebrow.

'No...but-'

Lisbon silenced him. 'Jane, you're paying for the door.'

'Sorry for breaking it in, Lisbon,' Cho told her apologetically.

'It's not your fault, Cho. Jane was just being an _ass_.'

Patrick's jaw dropped, clearly insulted, but he wasn't about to sound like a complete softy by telling them that he hadn't let Cho in because he wanted to be the only one there with Lisbon. Cho would surely start spreading rumours. Like his secretly childishself.

'Lisbon?' Cho asked, remembering the main purpose for being there, 'Why didn't you show at work today?'

Lisbon's jaw clenched as she remembered what her sleep had seemingly made her forget, at least for a little while. She fought back the tears prickling at the back of her eyes.

'I'm sorry Cho; I'm not ready to tell everyone yet. Tomorrow,' Lisbon replied, looking away so as not to show the tears creeping from her eyes, 'You...you should probably get back to CBI.'

Cho simply observed for a moment before replying with a simple, 'Ok.' He tried catching Lisbon's eye, but when it seemed obvious she wasn't about to turn around to face him, Cho left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

'Jane?'

'Yes?'

'Leave too.'

'Lisbon, I don't think you should be alone.'

'You were wonderful. Patrick. Right up until you broke my door.'

'...You don't want me to leave Lisbon. You need me to stay.'

'I _do_ want you to leave.'

'The very fact that you just called me _Patrick _and not Jane, and you said I was wonderful, shows that you're not ok. And therefore, I can't leave.'

'Sorry that I'm not in the mood to keep up with who you expect me to be Jane, but I'm not always as strong as I appear to be. I'm only human.'

'And that's exactly why you need me here.'

Lisbon almost fought back against him, but she was too tired, too shattered to bother.

'Fine.'

She climbed the stairs again and disappeared back into the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Patrick sighed heavily, just thinking.

Then he had the perfect plan...

_**A/N: How ominous does that sound? :P Well, tell me what you think. Love to hear it.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Ok, Chapter 4. Just before you start, I hope you've all read the new summary and seen the new aspect to the story. I thought it would make for a cooler story if I added this. No, I don't plan out my stories. :P I've learnt from mistakes of planning and then the story completely changing. Doesn't work. XD  
**__**But hey, enjoy!  
(and big thank you to reviewer: Koezh (i hope i spelt that right :P), who's reviewed all the chapters so far and has been wonderful. I hope you keep following this story!)**_

Chapter 4

Patrick left a scribbled note attached to the back of the door before he left in preparation of his plan, just in case Lisbon came downstairs while he was gone. He would be back soon enough. And Lisbon didn't seem to need him right now anyway. Gathering up his jacket and putting on his shoes, Patrick closed the door gently behind him, slipping his hand through the crack and sliding the chain across for at least some security.

Hopping into his little blue car, he brought the tired old engine spluttering to life and headed for the nearest supermarket, a gentle smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He formed a checklist of all the things he would need in his head. Three things to be precise.

* * *

Sam Bosco flicked through the newest additions to the Red John case file for the hundredth time, positive that he would uncover something if he stared at each page for half an hour each. He ran his hand roughly over his bald head and took a sip of steaming coffee from the takeaway cup sat beside the papers, his eyes unmoving from the open file. Running over the words splayed over the page again and again...and again...and again. Nothing was going in anymore. He took a deep breath in and shifted the strap of his shoulder holster.

Bosco reluctantly tore his eyes away from the page as Agent Dyson strode in and lowered himself into the chair opposite.

'Found anything?' Dyson asked, taking a gulp of his coffee.

Bosco sighed heavily, pushing himself back in his chair.

'No. I've been going through this damn file all morning. Nothing.'

Dyson nodded.

'Got no other cases then?' the agent inquired, seeing the frustration on his boss' face at the Red John case.

'Nope. It's a quiet day in California.'

Bosco looked out his window at the brightly lit scenery. He could almost see the words from the file imprinted in the back of his eyes for staring at them too long. As a purple finch swooped past the window, Bosco's office phone suddenly started ringing.

Flicking his gaze back to the office, he grabbed the receiver loosely and put it to his ear.

'Bosco.'

The line crackled, just allowing the sound of hurried breathing down the line.

'Hello? Who is this?' Bosco asked, his brows knitting together.

The breaths quickened. Heavy. Shaky.

'Sam Bosco?' a hushed voice came through, as if the call was forbidden.

Bosco glanced up at Dyson, who turned his attention to the phone call.

'Yes...who is this?' Bosco repeated slowly.

A quick, panicky breath.

'Doesn't matter...eighty one...Thresher Road...come quickly.'

A heavy crackle and the line went dead.

Bosco held the phone away from his ear, staring at it.

'Who was that?' Dyson asked, studying the look of confusion that Bosco was giving the phone.

'I'm...not sure,' Bosco replied, replacing the receiver. He grabbed a post-it note and scribbled down the address that he had been given by the anonymous caller.

'What did they say?'

Bosco handed the post-it to Dyson.

'Eighty-one, Thresher Road. Come quickly.'

'Check it out?'

'Yeah. Round up Hicks and Martinez.'

* * *

Patrick strolled down the fruit and vegetable aisle in the supermarket, a swinging basket held loosely in one hand, humming happily. He watched the brightly coloured food disappear past him while his search continued. Lisbon's happiness and willingness to let him be there with her depended on him finding what he came for. At least he hoped it would.

'Doo, doo, doo, da, da...ah, HA. There you are!' he declared, finding the boxes of fresh strawberries he knew Lisbon loved. He moved forward, looking for a good selection. Finally taking his first prize and placing it in the basket, he headed for the next aisle, a bit happier than before.

The almost blindingly bright supermarket lights flashed past as he hurried along the end of the aisles, checking all the signs for what he was looking for.

'Down here...' he murmured, spotting the right aisle.

Searching along the shelves of gift wrap and cards, he reached the ribbons and stood back, judging for the best one. So many colours...he grinned, picking a roll of plain thick red ribbon. Perfect. The glittery one with flowers was just overkill.

'Good...good...' he thought, putting the ribbon alongside the strawberries in the basket.

Two down, one to go.

Standing in the middle of the aisle for a moment, he patted his stomach thoughtfully. Food...

As if in confirmation, his stomach growled.

'Hunger, we meet again...' he murmured, moving off towards the savouries and cakes with a grin on his face.

One pasty and two blueberry muffins later, he stood in line at the checkout, awaiting service. He looked down the line, seeing an old lady shuffling a pile of toilet rolls towards the checkout lady with the speed and strength of a dead slug.

'Ugh,' Patrick muttered. Normally, he'd be a lovely, charming person towards the elderly...but he needed to check off the last thing on his list and get back to Lisbon's apartment sharpish.

Searching along the tills, he spotted a free self service. He gave a warm smile to the lady behind him, and set off, ready to take the quick route out, even if it meant trying out one of the brand spanking new, untrustworthy, machines. Eventually reaching the automated machine, he glanced over it, as if weighing up an enemy. He pressed 'start' on the touch screen and listened to the pre-recorded female voice telling him to scan the first item.

'Yes, ma'am,' he said under his breath, passing the ribbon's barcode through the streams of red light, followed by the strawberries, then the muffins, and finally the pasty.

Finishing off all his items, Patrick placed them in one of the carrier bags to the right. And then it had a turn.

'Unexpected item in the bagging area!' it blared, 'Unexpected item in the bagging area!'

Patrick stared at the machine, his lips pursed. He narrowed his eyes and chewed his bottom lip.

'Um...'

Soon, a shop assistant came to the rescue.

'Pain aren't they?' the young brunette smiled up at Patrick.

Patrick smiled back. 'Apparently there's a UFO in the bagging area...'

The girl laughed. 'Happened so many times today...utterly useless.'

'Honestly,' Patrick tutted, causing another wide smile to erupt over the girl's face. She tapped on the screen of the end console a few times and Patrick's machine shut up.

'Silence in the bagging area!' Patrick declared happily, pushing the necessary notes into the slot and dashing off, putting distance between him and the machine. Grasping his shopping in one hand, Patrick waved to the girl, who was now giggling at his antics.

'Thank you! And have a good one!' he called.

'You too!'

A wide grin was spread all over Patrick's face as he got back to the car for his journey to the next store.

* * *

'Where'd you go?' Van Pelt enquired as Cho re-entered the bullpen.

'Went to look for Lisbon,' Cho replied, sitting himself back at his desk and picking up his book. He flicked it open where the page was folded and submerged himself once more.

'So...?' the younger agent pressed.

'So?' Cho repeated, intent on finding the sentence at which he'd left off.

'Where is she?'

'Her apartment.'

'Is she ok?'

'Wouldn't say. Looked upset though,' Cho said, still looking at page 157.

'...Cho. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you don't care.'

Cho took in a deep breath and blew out through his nose. He looked up.

'I do care.'

'Doesn't seem like it.'

'That's your problem. I know I care. Do you care?'

'Of course I care!' Van Pelt looked aghast.

'Good.'

Cho returned his concentration to the creamy page underneath his thumb.

Van Pelt looked grumpily in Cho's direction. But he didn't seem to notice.

'I care!' Rigsby randomly piped up from his place, spread across the desk before him.

'You don't even know what we're talking about,' Cho told him.

'Good point....what are you talking about?'

When it was obvious that Cho wouldn't reply, Van Pelt spoke up.

'Lisbon.'

'Oh...yeah. We all care...'

* * *

Sam Bosco stepped towards the front door of Eighty-One Thresher Road. His shoes crunched the gravelly path as he moved slowly closer. His eyes flew over the yard, noticing the thick bushes and creepers littering the vicinity, browning grass providing ground cover. Drawing his vision back to the house, he saw how the majority of the windows were boarded up, pitch blackness beyond the clear ones.

What was this? Anonymous tip off to an abandoned house? Something didn't feel right, but Bosco kept up his advance.

Placing his foot on the first wooden step up onto the veranda, he briefly glanced back at his team following him, guns held cautiously in front of them. Bosco placed his weight onto the step, causing it to creak loudly. He cringed back slightly, casting an apprehensive glance over the old house, trying to figure out whether he'd been heard from inside. If there had been a tad more information in the call, he wouldn't have been as worried, but underneath the circumstances, he had no idea what he was walking into.

No movement was visible through the dusty old windows, and the only thing that could be heard was the gentle breeze whistling through the cracks in the glass. Bosco brought himself up onto the veranda, and it suddenly seemed so cold; the heat of the Californian sun blocked out by the roof. He approached the door, giving five brief knocks to the creaky, splintered wood, before stepping to the right slightly. He peered through the window, trying to make out what was on the other side. Light, furniture. Anything. But nothing. An empty room with a crumbling fireplace at the far end.

Bosco knocked again, but the only sound was the hollow tapping that his knock made, echoing through the hallway.

Nodding briefly at his team, Bosco checked his stab vest and shifted his grip on his glock. He took a deep breath and rested his hand on the tarnished door knob. Putting as much of his weight into it as possible, Bosco shunted the door heavily with his shoulder. He immediately straightened up on the other side and glanced round the hallway, bringing his gun up to height.

'CBI!' he yelled, beginning to secure all the rooms one by one.

* * *

Patrick plonked himself down on the lounger once more, phone book on his knee. He rifled through the pages, searching for a locksmith...door fixer...person. He picked up his freshest cup of tea and sipped it, flicking over the page and running his finger down the list.

'Ah...Lock N' Key...you sound like my kinda business,' Patrick mused, tapping the phone number and draining his mug.

Hurriedly walking across the room, casting a brief look into the dark stairwell, he grabbed the phone of the hook and trundled back to the lounger. Happily landing on the soft cushions, Patrick smiled. Phase three of plan very nearly completed. He crossed his legs over and tapped in the number, lifting the phone to his ear.

Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring.

'Yes, hello, my name's Patrick.'

'How can we help you Patrick?'

'I've got a bit of a problem. My front door's been busted up a bit...I was wondering if you could come over and fix up a new lock for me?'

'Certainly, when would you like us to come?'

'As soon as possible, really. Today.'

'O..k,' the Lock N' Key man replied, seemingly writing down the information.

'Is it possible for you to bring a selection of doors round for me as well? Just a few...'

'Urm...yes...I think so. What kind are you looking for?'

'Just plain white I think...maybe with little windows at the top?'

Patrick wanted the something nice for Lisbon to see when she came down from her room...other than him. He grinned cheekily and just remembered to listen to the reply that the man gave.

'I think I can find something for you, Patrick.'

'Thank you.'

'So we'll come round in the next hour? Is that alright?'

'Perfect.'

'Can I have an address please?'

'Yeah. Apartment 4...Crescent Cross.'

'Ok, thank you very much. We'll be with you as soon as possible.'

'Thank you!'

Patrick hung up the phone with a grin. Excellent. Everything was going to plan.

* * *

Bosco, Hicks, Dyson and Martinez regrouped at the end of the hallway, just outside the last door.

'Nothing upstairs boss,' Dyson informed Bosco.

Bosco nodded briefly. 'Last door then. Ready?'

'Yeah,' Martinez replied, raising his gun and repositioning it in his hand.

The other two nodded and Bosco took the signal, twisting the brass door knob slowly, holding his gun up in his other hand.

The four CBI agents entered the room slowly, casting hurried glances around the kitchen area and the chipped and frail dining table.

'Anyone here?' Bosco addressed the seemingly empty room.

Then he heard something; a quiet shuffle from behind the kitchen counter. Bosco's head snapped round to the source of the noise.

'Did you hear that?' he whispered to his team, nudging forward, gun poised before him.

'Hello?' he called again.

Bosco took a firm step forward and peered round the corner of the counter to be met with the sight of a youngish Asian man, crouched on the grimy floor.

Lowering his weapon ever so slightly, Bosco met gaze with the man. 'Are you the anonymous caller?'

'Y-yeah...' the man replied.

'Why did you call us here?'

'Um...I...I have...information.'

'About what?'

'R-Red John...'

_**A/N: I don't feel right, continuously bugging people for reviews, but I just want to know whether all the wonderful people who reviewed the first chapter are still reading? I got 15 reviews for the first chapter and then 2 each for chapter 2 + 3. Just lets me know people are still interested and keeps me enthusiastic about what I'm writing!**_  
_**I'm sure of the thousand of so people who've read this story, a few more people could just spend a minute or two on a review? **_  
_**Sorry for bugging, but thank you anyway. xx Love all of you readers and reviewers alike!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Chapter 5! Thank you to all the lovely people who reviewed last chapter, and thank you to reviewer: Catty, who was unfortunately anonymous so i couldn't reply, but i'm glad i got you interested and that you enjoyed it. thank you so much for checking out this story. xxx**_  
_**Enjoy everyone!**_

Chapter 5

Patrick sat comfortably on the lounger, surveying the new door in all its glory. It was pure white with three little windows in an arc across the top, multicoloured little shards of glass in the right and left hand windows. The bright sunlight cast twinkling, coloured rays of light through the glass to create a pattern on the opposite wall.

The door had been the best one out of the selection and now carried the red ribbon round it, with a big bow in the centre. It was like Christmas. But for a door. There was also a brand spanking new lock secured and a key dangling off the big red bow. A fat strawberry rested on top of the ribbon, awaiting to surprise Lisbon. Patrick smiled at his work. He was sure Lisbon would love it.

Now, coming to think of her, Patrick wondered why she still hadn't come downstairs. Maybe she was asleep again...he should probably check on her...

But Patrick was distracted by his pocket vibrating. He fished his phone out and flipped it open. One new message. Opening it and skimming over the words...everything suddenly seemed in slow motion. Patrick read it and re-read it...and re-read it...and read it _one _more time. Maybe once more...

New lead? New lead on the _Red John _case? He jumped off the lounger, flying through the air with the amount of force he'd exerted on the seat. It barely registered in his brain to wonder why Bosco would tell _him_, but it must be big...or why else would he have told him? Dashing round to his shoes underneath the table, he gathered them up off the floor and made a break for the door, his heart pummelling in his chest.

But then he stopped. Paused in front of the ribboned door. Lisbon. What about Lisbon? He couldn't leave her. Not without at least saying something. Not without at least checking on her to make sure she was ok. But...he wanted to see her reaction when she saw her new door. And give her the strawberries. And watch her face light up.

Patrick stood silent for a moment, the only sound in the room being his thumping heart, filling his ears. He felt dizzy. He was _so _tempted to run out of the door now. Speed to the CBI. Find Bosco. Find out about the lead. But at the same time, he knew he needed..._wanted _to stay with Lisbon. He ran his hand through his blonde curls and glanced up at the stairs.

Dropping his shoes behind him, Patrick made for the stairs and began walking up to Lisbon's room silently. As Red John...and Lisbon...and so many things filled his head...the walk up the stairs pulled his memory back to the time where he had been stood on his own stairs...thinking of how he would jump onto the bed and wrap his arms round his wife...pull her in and whisper about how much he loved her...place sweet kisses on her cheek...

He mentally told himself to shut up. He refused to break down. This wasn't the same situation. Nowhere _near_. He just needed to tell Lisbon where he was going. That was all.

He reached Lisbon's door and gently knocked.

He waited for a reply. But none came.

'Lisbon...?' he called, gently pushing down on the door handle.

The door only opened a couple centimetres before it stopped dead. 'Lisbon?' he called worriedly, trying to push the door open further, but to no avail.

'Lisbon, let me in.'

Patrick tried to look into the room, peering through the narrow crack in the door, but he couldn't quite see the bed. Or Lisbon. He felt suddenly panicky. He couldn't see anything inside, he couldn't get in. There was no reply.

'Dammit Lisbon, open the door! Let me in!'

'.....'

* * *

Bosco sat in interrogation one, facing the young, dark haired Asian man from the abandoned house. He watched as the man's hand clasped and unclasped, twinkling drops of perspiration dotted over his forehead.

'So...you have...information. Is that right?' Bosco started.

The man avoided his gaze, looking anywhere but the agent, eyes darting around the room as if it was closing in on him.

'Y-yes...that's what I said.' He looked around nervously. 'He knows I'm here...he always knows...'

'I'm sorry...who knows you're here?'

The man's eyes finally came to rest on Bosco's, panic threatening to drown him.

'_Red John!_'

'How would he know where you are?'

'He _always _knows about the people who _know about him_.'

Bosco studied the man's twitchy behaviour. 'You're safe here. I promise. Now, what's your name?'

'T-Terry. Terry Yeoker.'

'Ok, Terry. You want to tell me what you know?'

Terry brushed his dark spikes of hair out of his eyes swiftly and placed his sweaty palms on the table, staring at the spotlight lamps on the ceiling, as if he were being watched through them. It didn't seem like he would reply.

'O...k. You want to tell me why you wanted to meet in that abandoned house?'

'I've already told you!' Terry replied frustratedly, swiping his hand through his hair again and clasping both hands tightly together on the table surface. 'He _knows_!'

'Look, Terry, I've promised that you're safe here-'

'But what about when I leave? He'll know what I've done, won't he?'

Bosco breathed in and out heavily. 'We can put you in protective custody.'

Terry glanced up at Bosco and then returned his gaze to his clasped hands. After a moment or two of apparent consideration, he nodded fervently.

'Ok. Well. Now that we've established that you are _safe_...do you think you could tell us what you know?'

Terry eventually brought himself to nod, the grip between his hands tightening, causing his knuckles to crack slightly. He breathed out heavily.

'Red John...well, _John_...I knew him, in high school.'

Bosco nodded encouragingly.

'We were in a sort of...group. He was the leader. We'd all, kind of _get together_...and kill mice...frogs...that kinda thing...y'know, for fun.'

Bosco's brows knitted together. _Worried._ But he nodded and waited for Terry to continue.

'So, one day, John said something really weird...y'know...._really creepy_.'

'What did he say?'

'He said that we should expand our horizons...y'know...look for other things to kill. He said...we should try killing...a _person_. And of course, we all freaked, and put as much distance as possible between us and him.'

'Who were the others?'

'Um...well, it was John, me, Timothy Sander and Anthony Gibbs...but we all had names. Like he was Red John, Tim was Crimson Tim, Ant was Scarlett Ant, and I was Orange Terry.'

'Why orange? The rest were shades of red.'

'Um...' Terry laughed nervously, 'It was a joke. Y'know. Terry's Chocolate Orange?'

Bosco nodded slowly. 'So, they were being racist to you?'

'Um...what?'

'Terry's _Chocolate _Orange? You have dark skin.'

'Oh...I...don't think so. It was just a joke.'

Bosco nodded again. 'Ok.'

'I just thought...it might help, if you knew that his name was John Hyder...'

'Ok. Thank you. Thank you for coming forward.' Bosco replied very professionally. But inside, his heart was pummelling. New information. Red John's real name. So much could be followed up on.

Terry nodded slowly.

'Is there anything else?' Bosco added.

Terry shook his head.

'Well, Hicks here will take you and get you sorted out. You'll be in protective custody for however long you want.'

* * *

Lisbon sat cross-legged on her duvet, her off-duty weapon lying beside her. She couldn't help staring at it. Imagining the bullet emptying from the magazine into her brain. It scared her, _so _much. Jane's incessant knocking and yelling wasn't doing her any favours. She didn't want him to see her like this, why couldn't he just go away? She never wanted him to be in her presence when she had such dangerous thoughts running through her brain...that brain which could have a 9mm bullet crashing through it...

'SHUT UP!' she yelled, sobbing breaking up her voice, making it weak. She said it more to herself than Jane. She buried her head in her hands and cried.

Jane's knocking abruptly ended at the sound of Lisbon's voice.

'Lisbon? A-Are you ok?' his worried voice carried to Lisbon's tormented form on the bed.

Lisbon curled up, trying to cover her ears, trying to block out the voice that drew her towards the gun, trying to block out the visions of death by her own hand. What the hell was this? What the hell was making her want to kill herself? Any normal person would be in mourning, not thinking on throwing their life away. She wasn't sane. She wasn't stable.

'Lisbon, _please _let me in,' Patrick pleaded with her.

Lisbon felt like screaming. This wasn't her. Not at all. She was a CBI agent for Christ's sake. She half moaned, half screamed as she turned her gun into a projectile and threw it away, inadvertently causing the mirror to smash into a million tiny pieces and shower to the floor. She writhed, tangling the bed covers around her limbs. Mental pain. Physical pain. There was no differentiation. It was all a mess. Physical pain caused her mental pain, and mental pain caused her physical pain.

Patrick's heart almost stopped as he just about saw a gun fly into the mirror and smash it up. He could hear, clear as day, Lisbon's heavy cry of pain. He mentally heard himself swear. A gun. That meant she was thinking of...

'LISBON! Let me in!' he yelled, pummelling the door ferociously, shunting it with his shoulder. All trace of Red John had since been erased from his mind. All he could think about was Lisbon. His head felt like it was on fire. His brain screaming out as he tried and tried again to force open the door. His shoulder was rapidly bruising, put Patrick ignored it. There was more at hand than the well-being of his shoulder. Bruised, fractured, who cares? Lisbon's room was where he needed to be, and nothing would stop him. The chair that was wedged under the door handle was splintering and cracking under Patrick's weight. Creaking and giving in to the pressure...

* * *

'Cho, please tell me you know where Lisbon is?' Minelli came back once more into the bull pen.

'I know,' Cho confirmed, placing his book on the table, folding the corner of the page just like before.

'And?'

'She's at her apartment.'

'Do you know _why_?' Minelli asked. Cho had to be difficult, didn't he? Answer every question with as minimalistic an answer as physically possible.

'No.'

Minelli was getting frustrated now. He'd been running back and forth trying to locate his employee _all _day, and nobody could shed any light on the situation.

'And Jane? Where's he?'

'At Lisbon's apartment,' Cho replied.

Minelli narrowed his eyes. He almost said something, but thought better of it and stalked back to his office. Time to try phoning the apartment once more.

* * *

Patrick was getting tired and frustrated. Every time he shoved, loud creaking and cracking followed, but nothing seemed to give way. He couldn't figure it out. The phone started ringing downstairs. Patrick ignored it and gave the door one final shunt.

CRACK.

The door swung open and Patrick stumbled in. The chair lay in a sorry, broken heap behind the practically unhinged door.

'HA!' he thought, 'I have defeated you...'

And then his thoughts were back to Lisbon as his eyes met her curled form, tangled in the duvet, completely still.

He walked forward, everything seemingly in slow motion. His heart was threatening to jump ship and burst out of his chest. Yet it felt like it wasn't beating at all at the same time.

He felt tears tumbling down his cheeks. The pain that throbbed in his shoulder, in keeping with his pulse, was barely registering.

'Lisbon...' he murmured, touching her shoulder gently. Patrick's heart skipped a beat as he felt her twitch underneath his touch.

'What are you doing?' he breathed, 'Trying to kill me?'

She didn't make any move to show that she'd heard him.

Slowly kneeling beside the bed, Patrick threw his jacket off. He was burning up now. Trying to break through the door...the mixed and tangled feelings racing through him without a break...it was tiring him out. Who knew that Teresa Lisbon could become so unhinged?

All the happiness and mischievousness that was so normal it might as well be in Patrick's blood had completely evaporated. Everything he had felt so happy about when he was at the supermarket, every ounce of contentedness he'd felt when getting that new door and setting it up so beautifully, it was like it had never been there as he knelt beside his Lisbon, gently stroking her arm as she lay turned away from him.

Patrick's eyes closed slowly, his head bowed, his breathing twitching with tiny, inaudible sobs.

Suddenly, Lisbon rolled over and clambered off the bed, burying herself in Patrick's arms, planting her face into his shoulder.

'I'm scared...' she whispered brokenly, 'This..._isn't me_.'

Patrick didn't reply. He just held her, pulling her in tightly. He couldn't _ever _let go.

'No-one acts like this..._why me?'_

**_A/N: Remember, a review a chapter keeps...the author happy? :P xx_**


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: 6! Once again, a big thank you and a hug to those who reviewed last chapter. Much love. xx Enjoy!**_

Chapter 6

Tears ran hot down Lisbon's cheeks as she struggled to stay awake, her head resting on Patrick's thigh as she curled up beside him. She felt terrible. Terrible about her mood...the way she felt hung-over, sick, dizzy. The way she was being selfish enough to throw what Patrick had done for her today, back in his face, by blocking herself in her room with a gun. She could see that she was causing him pain, and yet she couldn't seem to control herself, tell herself to stop this madness.

Maybe she did need Patrick here. Maybe she always needed him here. Maybe it wasn't so much her keeping Patrick in check, but Patrick keeping her in check. Her brain felt like it was just a jumble of loose ends...not leading to anywhere...stopping her mind and body from functioning properly.

Lisbon closed her eyes slowly, squeezing out hot tears onto Patrick's trouser leg.

'I'm sorry...' she murmured, her speech shaken.

'...I know, Lisbon.'

'I guess you were right. I can't be alone.'

Patrick stroked Lisbon's head gently. He didn't reply. He felt like he was in shock. Lisbon feeling like she could turn a gun on herself just wasn't right. He'd seen it before, but that was an act, a perfect act to catch the killer. This was real. So real. And it wasn't right.

'...Did...did you ever end up like this?' Lisbon asked shakily, nuzzling her head into Patrick's leg.

Patrick considered for a moment. Had he ever turned a gun on himself? Yes. Had he ever caused himself physical pain? Yes. Had he been classed as completely unstable? Yes. Pretty much everything he could think of, he'd done. His whole family. His whole family. The reason he lived. His very foundations snatched from underneath him and torn to shreds. At the time, there was barely anything he wasn't willing to do.

He didn't want Lisbon to go the same way.

'I was...worse, Lisbon. Please don't go there. Please don't put yourself in that hole.'

Patrick glanced in the mirror...the broken, smashed mirror which basically represented him. He'd never gotten out of his hole. Not really. Not even with help. There were just some things that couldn't be done. And pulling himself out of there was one of them.

Lisbon nodded slowly. She couldn't even begin to imagine what Patrick's experience must have been like, but she wasn't sure she really wanted to. Life just wasn't fair. It never had been, never would be. Death lingered in the shadows, jumping out from round the next corner without warning. Suffering hung around like a bad smell. It's hard, cold glare an imminent threat to all of mankind. Right now, that glare was fixed on Lisbon, and it was throwing her brain out of sync with her sensibility. She had to stop digging herself deeper into the hole she was stood in.

'Lisbon?'

'Yeah?'

'Promise me something?'

'Maybe.'

'Promise you'll never do something like this again?'

'...Promise.'

'Good...c'mere.'

Patrick motioned for Lisbon to come towards him, flicking his head back slightly. Lisbon stared into his soft green eyes, studied the gentle, encouraging smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

Soon, she was huddled into his chest, her curled up form nuzzling as close to him as possible, searching for some kind of reassurance.

'I...don't want any of the team to know about this, ok?'

'What, you hugging me three times in one day, or yo-' Patrick cut off. He didn't want to say it. Why did he even joke?

'I'm sorry. Yeah, I understand.'

Lisbon nodded confirmation, extending her arm round Patrick's body and holding on tight. Focussing herself on his heart beat, calming her wounded soul. And right then, she had an overwhelming urge to tell Patrick how much she loved him.

* * *

Bosco stood situated outside the second suspicious residence for the day. House two: John Hyder's. God, he could feel his heart ready to leap from his chest and do a jig on the hard grey pavement. Best moment of the day. Best moment. Right now, there could actually be a chance of catching Red John inside the building stood before him. Ok, low chance. Clever person like Red John? Fat chance he's going to stay in his house. But all the same...

Bosco took a deep breath and fished his stab vest from the back of the SUV, slipping it over his head and readying his glock. He surveyed the area. Armed backup was securing the outside of the house, skirting around the back. All that was left to do was go in. And that was Sam Bosco, Agent Hicks, Martinez and Dyson's job. Bosco checked his group of agents, making sure they were all ready with stab vests and weapons.

'So, how's our Orange Terry?' Bosco directed at Hicks, a slight smirk on his lips.

'He's being held at CBI, just for now, in case we have any more questions. But paperwork is sorted.'

'Good,' Bosco surveyed his weapon as a final check and looked back up at the team. 'Ready?'

* * *

Terry sat in interrogation, twiddling his thumbs quietly. He glanced up at the officer on the other side of the glass wall, guarding the door. He waited. Counting down in his head. Almost waiting to hear the explosion. His heart beat surprisingly soft.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1....

Terry's eyes fluttered closed weakly and he fell from the chair, collapsing on the floor with a smack. The officer spun round on the spot at the sound of clashing chair and table. Seeing Terry out like a light on the floor, he rushed in, kneeling beside the Asian man and quickly checking for a pulse. Suddenly, Terry's eyes flashed open and the officer flinched in shock.

A few seconds later and Terry's elbow was buried in the other mans cheek, sending him stumbling backwards. He was grabbed harshly around the throat before he could even attempt to call out. Terry's iron grip brought the officer gagging, back to the table, where he was slammed down. A wicked smile lifted the corners of Terry's mouth as he brought a long, silver, shining sliver of metal from his pocket. It twinkled dangerously in the soft light. The officer's eyes flew wide open with fear. But nothing was there to stop the blade from swinging down and...

* * *

Bosco pushed the already open door, letting it swing gently back.

'CBI!' he called in. 'Anybody home?'

He stepped in cautiously, holding his gun before him, scanning the dimly lit hallway.

If only Sam Bosco had noticed the thin, barely visible red line across the doorway. And as his shoe swiped through it, like a knife through air...the countdown started. The ticking that would not quite reach Bosco's ears until it was too late. The ticking that marked the final few seconds...

Before Bosco could register it, he was lying on his back, his skin black and scorched, his stab vest, his clothes, in shreds. His eyes wide, wouldn't quite close properly. He choked and spluttered, frozen on the scalded grass of the yard, splinters of debris and wood showering down over him. Warm, sticky blood dribbled over his brow and down his ash-covered cheek. He struggled to swallow, his throat dry, pain dancing across his body.

His head fell to one side. Hicks, Dyson, Martinez. There they were, probably in a better condition than him. Bosco had taken the full blast. He tried to speak, but only dry, grinding nonsense fell from his lips onto the dehydrated grass. Flickering orange tongues of flame reflected in his dark eyes. Flaming projectiles of wood and fire drifted back down to earth, leaving hot, smoky trails behind. His eyes remained fixed on his team as he struggled to roll onto his front and pick himself up off the ground.

He should have known better than to think that it would be that easy.

He stumbled over to the three other agents and managed to get them to their feet.

'Is everyone alright?' he asked, talking as best as he could.

He received three brief, weak nods. All around the house, the armed backup team were pulling themselves up and regrouping at the front of the house. Or at least what was left of the once grand structure.

Bosco only just realised the pain radiating from his leg when Martinez pointed shakily at the source. He looked down. He swore under his breath, placing his hand around the puncture wound, where a huge shaft of wood stuck out, about one and a half inches thick. How did he not notice...that?

Bosco felt light-headed as his hands hovered shakily around the wound.

'Call...an ambulance,' he whispered shakily.

* * *

Sandy Lopez, the new secretary for Sam Bosco, walked past the interrogation rooms, a file fixed in her hand. She was desperate to impress. She put on all her best clothes. Groomed herself to the best of her ability and made sure she acted intelligently and sophisticatedly. She thought she was doing well...

Suddenly, something in the corner of her eye caught her and made her stop dead. She turned her head to look into interrogation one. That was the moment when all she could do was let her vocal chords scream their heart out. She was frozen, her eyes wide. Her heart pounded and pounded and pounded on the inside of her chest. The only thing she could meet gazes with was a sickly, bloody, grinning smiley. She felt light-headed, dizzy.

Soon, there were security guards dashing into the room, looking from slashed body splayed on the table to smiley, and back again.

'GET A MEDIC IN HERE!' one of them yelled.

Sandy's eyes lay fixed on the pooling blood on the floor, dripping off the table in a sickening symphony. Her chest heaved, her thin blouse tugging.

'Oh my God...' she whimpered, 'Oh my God.'

She bolted for the nearest bathroom, hand lightly covering her mouth.

* * *

Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt's gaze suddenly shot up from their various activities at the sound of a high pitched scream coming from just outside the bullpen. They raced from their desks...even Rigsby...and grouped outside interrogation one.

'Oh no...' Rigsby murmured.

'Wait...Red John...he was in here?' Van Pelt gasped, 'That's not...'

'Anything's possible with Red John,' Cho pointed out.

'Should we tell Jane and Lisbon?' Van Pelt suddenly remembered their two absent colleagues.

'Not a good idea. Jane's too involved and Lisbon's got something going on that's got her upset,' Cho replied.

All the three agents could do was watch as medics and officers poured in and out of the room, collecting the body, securing the scene.

* * *

Patrick suddenly woke from his trance-like state at the feeling of Lisbon's cool fingers resting on his chest. He looked down at the top two unsecured buttons of his shirt, and the way Lisbon's hand was just venturing inside. Not on purpose...he hoped. Gently lifting away the slender fingers and placing them on his stomach instead, where there was actually clothing between their skin, Patrick looked down at Lisbon as she lay curled into him. She appeared to be asleep, so the action obviously hadn't been intentional, but it still felt wrong for them to be that intimately close in this kind of situation. And the situation wasn't just Lisbon's brother. Patrick glanced down at his wedding ring.

Ever since that day, Patrick had always told himself that he was still married. There was still that connection between him and his wife. And there always would be. A true marriage always lasted longer than 'til death do us part'. The ring was a way to stop himself forgetting as well; a way to prevent himself from forgetting the promise that he had to fulfil.

And that's why Lisbon and himself could not become too close. Why they couldn't have a...

Relationship? Was that really what he was thinking about? Just because Lisbon's fingers had accidentally touched his chest? Oh dear.

Patrick shook his head free of the thoughts. He wrapped his arms protectively around Lisbon and quietly began to hum to himself...very quietly. He hummed a slow, melodic tune, making himself feel sleepy. He remembered the new front door. He'd have to show Lisbon when she woke up. It definitely couldn't go undiscovered for too much longer...it was just the whole situation with the...then he remembered the gun, lying in pool of mirror shards. He needed to hide it.

His gaze fell on Lisbon once more. Patrick slowly began to shuffle out from underneath her, careful not to wake her as he gently laid her head onto one of the feather pillows. Creeping through the dimly lit room, Patrick collected the gun and ventured downstairs. Yes, he dared to leave Lisbon alone. At least she didn't have a gun this time. And she was asleep. And he would be back up there soon enough...he just needed to discover a good hiding place for the weapon that was currently dangling off his middle finger...

Patrick stood in the centre of the apartment, eyes roaming for a secure place to put the weapon. He didn't want Lisbon finding it any time soon. He didn't really want her to be near _anything_ that could harm her...but that would end in clearing the majority of the apartment, so hiding the gun would do for now. But he really needed to cheer her up anyway, to make sure she didn't do anything stupid. To make sure she didn't end up with a weapon of grievous bodily harm in her hand, aimed at herself. So plans began forming in his mind as he searched for a hiding place for the glock...

* * *

Terry laughed as he drove away from the CBI building, his hands gripping the steering wheel of the car he'd parked close by only a couple of days ago. That was fun. Maybe he should toy with the CBI more often. He was a bit disappointed that Patrick Jane hadn't been there to witness his fun...but hey. Maybe he'd see pictures.

Peeling away his Asian face, Red John wondered how Agent Bosco was getting on at the house. He wondered whether he was still alive, or just existing in small pieces all over the yard of a 'John Hyder's' house. He pulled the hand-like gloves off, and disposed of them in the passenger seat.

Now, in the driver's seat of the Mercedes, sat a middle aged, light haired Caucasian male. No longer Asian. No longer called Terry Yeoker.

Red John had sat under the noses of the CBI for over an hour...and nobody had noticed.

_**A/N: Ok, I won't be able to update now until next monday/tuesday cos I'm going away on me easter hols, but I will be writing whilst i'm away and therefore will try and update as soon as possible after I come back. Lots of lovely reviews when I come back would just be epic xx love y'all. :P**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Is back from holiday! Well, thank you muchly to all reviewers. Much love. And special thanks to reviewer: handsomerob101 who left absolutely epic review and made me very happeh. **_**:P_ Oh, and I changed a little bit from chapter 6 if you would go back and just check the end of the last Lisbon/Jane bit. I decided I didn't like the bit about 'said ridiculous hiding place' so I changed it. Believe me, my idea for said ridiculous hiding place was a bit more than ridiculous...it just made me laugh at the time...but hey. Yeah, so check that, then I give you permission to read this chapter _^_^**

Chapter 7

Bosco woke in a haze; bright, over-powering lights filling his blurred vision. His head throbbed quietly. He tried to speak, but all he could manage was strained groans of pain. His hand moved shakily down to his thigh, brushing over a tightly wound bandage which absorbed the thick scarlet blood escaping the deep hole in his limb. He heard the steady drip, drip, drip of the IV fluids and saw the heavy bag of A+ blood hanging above him.

Damn.

He felt light-headed as the morphine worked its way through him, numbing the unbearable pain coursing seemingly through his veins, buried in his muscles, flaring with every beat of his heart. He turned his head left and right, searching for his team, trying to shake the drugged up feeling that screwed up his thought pattern. He couldn't seem to remember whether they had been alright or not.

Damn Red John.

He rubbed the base of his palm roughly over his forehead, hoping that it might just bring back some of what had happened. The blip of the cardiac monitor kept distracting him, and it began to pace faster and faster as Agent Bosco felt less and less composed. He needed his memories. He needed to think. And he needed his team.

Damn morphine and blood loss.

* * *

Lisbon was suddenly aware of the absence of a certain presence beside her when a soft chill brought the hairs on her arms to stand. As her eyes slowly blinked open, she thought how it had never felt so cold in her bedroom. Everything seemed to feel cold, even if she tried to put on a brave face. Like when Cho had come. She'd tried to act as her usual self, just because he was there...but it didn't make a difference to what was truly in her head.

But pushing those thoughts aside, she came back to wondering where her source of comfort had run off to this time. She propped herself up on one hand and tousled her hair with the other. So, Patrick still didn't think much of leaving her alone then?

Not that she felt _that _weak as to think that she would always need Patrick there with her if she was to stay sane..._but._ She wasn't stupid enough to deny feeling vulnerable...

It wasn't as if she hadn't had enough time to think it over before walking _slowly, _to her _locked _drawer, to collect her firearm, and spend enough time _loading _it...

She quickly shook the thoughts away before they set her off again. Her head was so confused. More than a few wires crossed in the jumble.

The thought of wanting to tell Patrick that she loved him was itching at the back of her tired brain as she called the familiar name. The familiar name which had been said so much in a scalding way that even now, it sounded harsh. As if she was telling him off.

Her brows knitted together as she heard a few knocks and scrapes resound from downstairs, before a unsteady reply: 'Ah, ah, Lisbon...wai...wait _right _there.'

Lisbon slowly pushed herself out of the tangled duvet and blankets and stepped suspiciously towards the door. 'What are you doing Jane?'

'Urm...that...is a very good...question...ah...HA.'

Lisbon felt completely unassured about what the hell that troublesome _child _of a man was doing down there.

'Jane. I'm coming down.'

'No...don't do that! Not yet...'

Lisbon yawned.

'Look. I find anything else broken and you're gone. I'll shove you out.'

Lisbon was immediately trying to put her armor back on, to look strong again. She just wasn't the person who normally let it all out to someone. Patrick had just happened to be there at her weakest, when she had no better judgement than to snuggle into his arms. It was like she had a natural defence mechanism that was desperately trying to right itself and try to recover everything that had leaked out to the man who was currently downstairs. This was what being an agent was all about. Not showing your true feelings. Acting like the boss. The one in charge. And maybe work had taken so much of her life that it was beginning to leak into her personal life as well. She was too enclosed for it to be healthy.

'Nothing's broken. Promise,' Patrick called back.

And then Lisbon heard padded footsteps rushing up the stairs towards her.

Patrick stood before her. His jacket was gone and his waistcoat was undone, hanging around his torso loosely, creased badly. A massive grin was plastered on his face.

'What's got you?' Lisbon asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

Patrick raised his own eyebrows and flashed his smile.

'What?' Lisbon repeated.

'Turn around.'

'Why?'

'Just..._turn around_.'

'Jane. Why?'

'It's a _surprise_.'

'I don't trust you.'

'Yes you do. Remember the trust fall?'

'Jane. One trust fall doesn't mean that I trust you.'

'Come on Lisbon. Humour me. You won't regret it.'

'Oh won't I?' Lisbon groaned as she turned around reluctantly.

'Nope,' Patrick replied happily, slipping an improvised blindfold of tea towel round Lisbon's eyes.

'Oh look! I'm regretting it...'

'Shh. You'll like the surprise.'

Lisbon's shoulders dropped frustratedly as Patrick guided her down the stairs one step at a time. The blonde consultant hummed contentedly the whole way.

'You know that humming doesn't do anything to reassure me about this Jane.' Lisbon narrowed her eyes from underneath the blindfold.

Patrick simply smiled and brought his boss to a halt in front of the door.

'Ready?'

'No.'

'Good.'

Lisbon's tired eyes once again met light as the blindfold was pulled away. She blinked tight. And then she saw the door, wrapped in a thick red ribbon like a present, with a huge bow in the middle. She couldn't help the smile that grew on her face, a mix of surprise and happiness.

'You...got me a new door?'

Patrick nodded, a wide grin plastered on his face.

'Wh...How?'

'By...getting a new door...'

'But how did I not hear any of this?'

'I told the door man to be _very quiet_.' Patrick grinned.

'Really Jane? A new door?'

'Yup...you like it?'

'Well, _yeah_...'

Lisbon wanted to hug him. But she wasn't that soppy.

She admired the door. How the pretty colours twinkled off the glass windows. How there was a strawberry resting on top of the bow. How a sparkly new key dangled off the ribbon. It was lovely.

'Thanks Jane.'

'My pleasure. _Now_...'

'What?' Lisbon asked suspiciously, moving forward and taking the strawberry off the bow and popping it her mouth.

'I've organised a little something for you.'

'Oh dear...' Lisbon swallowed the mound of delicious fruit in her mouth.

Patrick rubbed his hands together in a _strangely _suspicious way, a mischievous grin on his face.

'Strawberry hunt!'

'What?'

'I. Have hidden strawberries around the apartment. This floor only. Now, I would have left the box in the fridge for you...but where's the fun in that?'

Lisbon narrowed her eyes.

'...And you need to have some fun. It's not good to mope around in the darkness. SO. Strawberry hunt.'

'You are joking. Right?'

'Nope.'

'Jane. You think I want to go on a strawberry hunt?'

'Yup.'

Lisbon had to admit this was making her feel happier, but she really didn't think she could go as far as to raid her apartment for strawberries.

'Are you insane?'

'Most probably.'

Lisbon mulled it over in her head. Did she want to mope in the darkness and therefore only be able to think of her brother? Not particularly. Did she want to play another one of Patrick's games right now? Not particularly. She met Patrick's hopeful gaze. She had to be thankful for what he was trying to do for her. He was just trying to make her happy; even if it was in some of the stranger ways. And for that reason, she found herself searching for the first strawberry. Even if she did feel completely out of character for not putting up a fight. She was in no mood for a fight.

It seemed that she was giving herself whiplash with her own mood swings...depressive...in charge...self-destructive..._strawberry hunt_...

* * *

Minelli charged into the bull pen for the third time that day, another variation of frustration written all over his face.

'Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt. You're working the Red John case temporarily.'

The three agents looked at each other.

'Why?' Van Pelt enquired, looking surprisedly at Minelli.

'Because Agent Bosco and his team are unable to. Any questions? No, didn't think so.' He fired off, not even giving the team chance to answer. He threw the file onto Van Pelt's desk.

Rigsby whistled loudly as the CBI boss charged out once more in a fluster.

'But we don't have Jane _or _Lisbon today.' Van Pelt pointed out worriedly.

Cho shrugged. 'We can handle it.'

Van Pelt picked up the case file and scanned the contents.

'Terry Yeoker...and John Hyder. Check them out.'

The younger agent looked up at her two colleagues, who nodded and began tapping hurriedly on their computers, the rhythmic sound of keys being hit filling the air.

Rigsby's cold seemed to have been completely knocked out of him now that Red John was on the agenda. He wasn't in the mood for one now. He couldn't do any more than to concentrate on what he was typing, and that left no room for a _cold_.

The three agents buried themselves completely in the multiple things popping up on their screens, desperately trying to unearth something.

In approximately thirty minutes, they would come to realise that Terry Yeoker was a name which did not exist and that Red John must have been sat in that now marked interrogation room, when officers and agents sat oblivious throughout the whole building. They would come to conclude that Red John was upping the pressure and reminding them who was in charge, who had control of everything. How he could easily penetrate the CBI, and put deep cracks in its strong stance.

They would come to discover that John Hyder was a name most probably planted by Red John, along with address and any immediate information, that would fool them just enough. They would remember how the notorious serial had hacked into the CBI system and made contact with them.

And finally, they would feel completely helpless as they came to realise how powerful this man really was...in approximately thirty minutes.

* * *

Bosco eventually dragged himself out of his morphine enhanced sleep to watch the room swim threateningly. His gaze drifted round until it met a dark figure sat to his left.

'Hey...' Bosco greeted Martinez hoarsely. He could make out a thick cast around his colleague's forearm as he continued to push off the heavy weight of the morphine.

'Yeoker escaped,' Martinez replied bluntly.

'What?' Bosco shot up, causing his vision to swim even more. Nauseous, he collapsed back.

'And left us a present.'

'What kind of present?'

'The dead person kind.'

'Who?'

'Security guard watching the interrogation room, Red John style.'

Bosco slowly processed the information.

'Wait, you're trying to tell me that _that_ was Red John?'

'It would seem so. I don't think it's an impersonation. It's too deep.'

'He was sat _right _under our noses? And we didn't notice?'

Martinez nodded solemnly, briefly brushing his fingers over the cast as a sharp spike of pain hit the nerves.

Bosco slammed his fist down onto the hard hospital mattress, ignoring the way the bruised hand flared up in agony.

'Damn it!' he cursed.

'Lisbon's agents are taking the case while we're in here.'

Bosco nodded absently, still focussing on the rage he felt at himself. He'd been sat _right _in front of that bastard, and now he had escaped. With one of the lives of the CBI. He closed his eyes and pushed his head back into the pillow.

'Bastard...' he muttered, slamming his head back again.

* * *

After having carried out a search of her apartment thorough enough for a forensics team, Lisbon now sat back on her couch, cradling her strawberries in one hand, feeling a hell of a lot better than she had before. She leant back against Patrick. He sat behind her, contentedly watching how he had struck success in cheering up his Lisbon. She downed another strawberry.

'You know what, Jane?'

'What?'

'You may be an utter ass at times...but I appreciate you staying with me. I don't think anyone else would have really known what I needed. I didn't even know myself...but you, you seem to know me better than anyone else.'

Patrick wasn't completely sure what to say, but he was happy to hear evidence that Lisbon had liked being in his company. And his strawberry hunt had gone down a treat. Surprisingly.

Lisbon felt those three words scratching earnestly at the back of her mind, but she wouldn't say them. She couldn't. It wasn't meant to be. He was too deep in turmoil because of Red John. He wouldn't want her...so that incessant scratching was all it would ever be. She popped another strawberry, hoping that Patrick wouldn't try and read her mind anytime soon.

**_A/N: Reviewsies pwease?_ :D xx**


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Much love to the last reviewers. And just a bit more love for reviewer: Ms. HellFire 4590. Enjoy the next instalment!**_

Chapter 8

'He was toying with us,' Van Pelt finally came to the right conclusion, 'It was all just a game...a power play.'

'Well...at least we know what he looks like,' Rigsby tried to raise the atmosphere, chewing a chip thoughtfully from the bowl beside him.

'How can you eat at a time like this?' Van Pelt asked, completely bewildered by Rigsby's unhindered obsession with food.

'I'm hungry!' Rigsby complained.

Van Pelt shook her head softly.

'Guys. Back to the case here,' Cho came in, 'You really think that was Red John's true appearance? He isn't stupid enough to walk in here straight out.'

'Maybe not stupid enough...but he's dangerous enough to.'

'Walking in here and basically giving himself to us just for a game gets him nowhere.' Cho muttered.

'Why did he do it anyway? It's not his style to risk being caught out.' Rigsby said through a mouthful of chip.

'Maybe he's just trying to reinforce how clever he is...' Van Pelt replied quietly.

'Well. I don't buy it. I think that was a disguise,' Cho continued.

'And that leaves us nowhere...' Van Pelt glanced over at interrogation one, a horribly sick feeling drowning her stomach.

'And anyway...why didn't Bosco suss anything by the fact that Red John was said to have had the same name. John. There's an extremely low chance that the actual Red John is called John. That was just a name given to him...' Rigsby pointed out.

'It was a huge crack in the case...or at least it appeared to be...maybe he just...ignored it.' Van Pelt said, twirling a pen on her desk absentmindedly.

'Bosco isn't _that _stupid,' Cho defended, hitting the enter button on the keyboard and leaning back into his swivel chair.

Van Pelt huffed. They weren't getting anywhere. Nothing was showing up on the databases. Nothing was appearing to explain anything about John Hyder and Terry Yeoker. She had thought that maybe those two names meant something...but nothing came up. The whole high school story proved to be a fake. Anthony Gibbs and Timothy Sander were registered as deceased, at the ages of 91 and 74 respectively.

Van Pelt was beginning to wonder whether they would ever find the serial killer. Whether they would just be stuck in this sick game until the end... _N__o. _There had to be something. There _had _to be. Everyone makes mistakes. Even Red John. The young agent began tapping on her keyboard again. They would break him. They would.

* * *

Patrick sat completely content...relaxed...a soft smile reaching his lips as his head lay back against the sofa. Lisbon lay across his lap...asleep _again_. She had a knack of falling asleep in Patrick's embrace. So here she was again, sleeping peacefully, happily full of strawberries. It was a wonderful sight when Lisbon slept, Patrick had decided. She was completely harmless and gentle, at peace. He loved watching her soft features. The way the bridge of her nose crinkled when she turned her head. The way the gentle breaths fell from her lips. The way strands of hair tumbled over her face when she shifted slightly. Patrick brushed them away, careful not to wake her.

But suddenly, crashing through the serenity of the moment, three words appeared in his brain. He almost physically choked at the shock. He looked around, as if thinking that something else had caused the sound. The three words he hadn't heard himself say in a _long _time. He wondered where they had come from. When. He swallowed. Could it be real? _Three words_.

* * *

Bosco felt completely useless as he laid in the hospital bed, staring at the door, the security guard stood close by. He could only imagine walking out of there. Getting back to work. He needed to be back in action. After such commotion at the headquarters, he couldn't _possibly _be stuck here, hooked up to IV fluids and blood bags...it was ridiculous.

He'd had enough time to think about the whole process of events which led up to the explosion, and Bosco felt like hitting himself when he realised that Red John couldn't _really _be called John in real life. It would be a coincidence too big to be reality. He felt like an idiot for not asking further questions about it. For the first time in his career, he had been inefficient, and he couldn't figure out why. He had acted like a child with a brand new toy, and the normal procedure had been completely screwed up.

He hated how this new twist in the Red John tale was proving the CBI to more and more of a blunt force against the serial killer. How the man had managed to get inside CBI without anyone noticing. And had managed to kill a security guard.

The whole case was like searching a pitch black room without a torch. Nothing could be found. And they kept tripping over. It felt like there was really no hope as Bosco continued to run everything through, again and again in his mind.

* * *

Teresa Lisbon lay back in the cool summer green grass, her eyelids gently fluttering. Soft, fluffy white clouds drifted above her, cruising, without a care in the world. Her hair lay in perfect ringlets amidst the fresh grass, framing her face, and a beautiful white summer dress adorned her slender frame, glowing faintly in the sunlight. The soft breeze blew delicate petals over her, brushing her cheeks as they fell. And in her hand, lay the hand of another, the comfortable warmth running up her arm and flooding through her.

She turned her head with a gentle smile lifting the corners of her mouth. All she could feel was simply peace, love and calm. Nothing else. No fear. No hate. No sorrow.

She found Patrick Jane's gaze, her eyes meeting his penetrating emerald ones. Not a word fell from either of their lips as Teresa rolled onto her side, looking full into his eyes. He did the same, never breaking eye contact, a beautiful smile replying to hers. Teresa's gaze flitted to his soft lips, only for a second, as she shifted her head forward towards him across the daisy-littered grass. To close the gap seemed to take centuries, as she felt the longing build inside her. When their lips finally brushed, the air seemed to be knocked clear of her lungs and she pulled away, ever so slightly, pushing her forehead against Patrick's for just a moment before touching back again.

Her hand travelled lightly over the loose, pure white shirt covering Patrick's torso, pushing her index and middle finger through the gap between the buttons and revelling in the soft warmth under her fingertips.

But suddenly, amidst the peace of the bubble the two seemed to be in, a loud, abrupt bang rang through the air and Teresa panicked, sitting up, searching round for the source. She turned her wide-eyed gaze back to Patrick, and in horror, watched a scarlet patch grew rapidly over his pure white shirt. Her hands shook as they hovered over the hole in his chest. They pressed down. She felt the warmth pouring from his body. Sticky blood crept through the gaps between her fingers. She ran her hand across his cheek, but his green eyes were already blank. Already staring. Seeing nothing. And she was sat...covered in his blood...pretty green grass marred by blood...daisies dripping with sticky scarlet...

* * *

Lisbon screamed awake, shooting up, her long black hair falling over her face. Her breath fell heavy from her parched lips. She flinched, her heart almost stopping as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

'Lisbon?'

The sound of his voice brought tears tumbling down her cheeks and she froze, only for a second, before turning round and launching into his arms.

'Whoa, whoa...Lisbon...what's wrong?'

Lisbon simply shook her head, unwilling to explain. She felt dizzy and unstable, burying her face in Patrick's shoulder. She couldn't figure out why she would see something like that. She could still feel the blood on her hands...even though it wasn't there...

'B-b-blood...on my hands...' she stuttered.

'Oh god,' Patrick thought. Nightmares.

He rubbed soothing circles into her back, using the other hand to smooth out her hair gently.

'I'm sorry, Lisbon,' he murmured, '...I know he's gone...but be strong for me Lisbon.'

'But...I thought I'd lost you,' Lisbon choked.

Patrick's brow crumpled. Him? _Him?_

'Lisbon. What happened?'

'...S-shot...' she managed.

Patrick felt Lisbon shudder horribly. 'Heyyy. Come on. It's ok. I'm here. I'm fine.'

Lisbon felt like she couldn't move. She couldn't possibly let go. She pressed a kiss to Patrick's shoulder, where the shirt opened enough to expose skin.

'Shh...shh...shhhh...' Patrick continued to rub her back gently. He felt the brief contact of Lisbon's lips on his shoulder blade, and he almost thought it wasn't real. Lisbon. Kissing him. Like that would ever happen. Yet...that strange sensation on his skin, that sent tingles through his nerves.

Suddenly, his train of thought was derailed by a second kiss, just at the base of his neck.

'Lisbon?' Patrick gently pulled her off him and held her in front of him.

She stared down, wide-eyed.

'Lisbon, it was just a bad dream. Don't worry.'

Lisbon slowly brought her gaze to her hands. She could see the blood. She could see it sticking on her fingers, under her nails.

'I...' she quickly gathered herself up off the sofa and sped into the kitchen, running the tap hot over her hands, scrubbing ruthlessly. Scrubbing ruthlessly at nothing.

Patrick quickly followed her and came to a halt behind her. 'Lisbon, what are you doing?' he asked quietly, reaching around her and taking her wrists gently in his hands, pulling them out of the scorching water.

'I'm washing the blood off...' she turned her head to face him, tearful green orbs staring up into his.

'There isn't any blood on your hands, Teresa. Look.'

Lisbon turned her gaze back to her slightly reddened hands. No blood. She stepped out of his arms and turned fully towards him. She placed her hand over his heart. Over the hole that had been there in the dream.

Patrick would be lying if he said this wasn't making him slightly nervous. He looked down at Lisbon's slender hand covering his heart.

'It's still beating...' he told her.

Lisbon stepped backwards and leant on the side.

'I'm...sorry...'

'Lisbon,' Patrick began, placing his hands gently on her shoulders, 'Don't worry. Everything's ok.'

'But why you? Why did it have to be you in my dream?'

'I don't know, Lisbon, but don't let it bother you, please. Because I'm here. The dream isn't real.'

'I know...I know...but it _felt _real. Your touch, your lips, the grass, the breeze, the gunshot, the blood...it was all _so _real.'

'But it wasn-' Patrick stopped in his tracks. 'Wait...my lips?'

* * *

Red John sat smugly behind the wheel of his car, almost back home. Or what he called home anyway. Images of that security guard's face when that knife had come slashing down filled his mind. The sight of blood. It made him feel content. Happy. So he left a smiley at every scene, just to show that...and more...but that was a long story.

He tried imagining Patrick Jane's face when he discovered what had happened in the CBI building, tried feeling what he would feel. It brought a smile to his face.

He was so lost in that world that he didn't notice a small fox crossing the road, unaware of the car belting towards it, until it had been and gone underneath the fat Dunlop tyres, black dusty tread marks left across its rough fur.

'Shit...' he swore under his breath, bringing the car back under control. He searched the rear view, trying to locate what he'd run over. Ugh, that was the second time he'd hit something today. He really should pay more attention to the road. Admittedly, he had got himself a bit drunk this morning. Yes, this morning. Don't ask why...and that was probably why he'd hit that guy's car. He didn't know whether he was alright or not, but to be honest he couldn't care less...but _anyway_.

He eventually settled himself down again, looking out the windscreen at the young sunset.

* * *

Lisbon mentally cursed herself. Her tongue could be a liability at times. Why did she have to let _that _slip, of all things? She couldn't think up anything to cover her tracks with. Her cheeks burnt bright pink, almost glowing.

Patrick didn't know what to say. Had Lisbon just admitted that she dreamt of kissing him? Surely, that couldn't be right...could it?

Awkward silence filled the next couple of minutes.

Patrick suddenly smirked. 'Was I good?'

Lisbon's jaw dropped. 'Jane!' She would have grabbed the nearest object and hit him over the head with it, but unfortunately, the nearest object was a frying pan, and therefore probably wouldn't go down too well.

'Apart from the fact that you got shot not thirty seconds later...that was uncalled for,' Lisbon told him sternly.

Patrick made a pathetic attempt at hiding his smirk. 'Just...trying to lift the mood, Lisbon.'

Lisbon narrowed her eyes. 'Yes...of course. And yes...'

Patrick had to take a moment to figure out what the 'and yes' meant.

He grinned cheekily.

Lisbon hit him over the back of the head.

She refused to let her mood drop again. And if that meant hitting Patrick, then so be it.

'Now you're taking control of how you feel, Lisbon. This is good,' Patrick smiled.

'Yeah, thanks Jane. Do I get a gold star?'

'Yup. Gold star for Lisbon.'

'I feel so happy,' Lisbon joked.

'Good.'

For a moment, all they did was smile at each other.

'Will you help me tell the others tomorrow?' Lisbon became a little more serious for a moment.

'What? That you dreamt of kissing me?'

'No!' Lisbon hit the back of his head again.

'No. Of course, Lisbon.'

'Thank you...'

Lisbon paused for a moment. 'You...can stay tonight if you want...'

Patrick considered. It wasn't as if he wanted to leave Lisbon. 'Is that alright?'

'Yeah. Sleeping on the couch.'

'Where else?' Patrick smirked.

_**A/N: Reviewsies? Who sussed what I meant by Red John's hit and run that morning? **_**:O**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks again for wonderful multiple reviews! And Koezh for making me happy enough to have new ideas! =D Not that everybody else didn't make me happy. :P**

Chapter 9

Lisbon stretched sleepily as her alarm blared. She rubbed her eyes and brought herself slowly into a sitting position. Her hand came into contact with the alarm and silence abruptly fell. Lisbon closed her eyes and contentedly smiled in the darkness and silence. Eventually, she got herself out of bed and headed for the ensuite bathroom...but was stopped in her tracks. She sniffed. Was that...cooked breakfast in the air? She wandered over in the direction of the door, making sure not to trip over anything, and stuck her head out. The sound of happy humming reached her ears and she remembered the little someone she'd let sleepover last night. She smiled, pulling herself back into the bedroom, and tousled her hair. Shower first.

* * *

Patrick flipped a fat American pancake in the frying pan and swiftly returned to the multiple ingredients littering the kitchen stove and sides. Scrambled egg, bacon, berries, strawberries, syrup. Lisbon needed a good, yummy breakfast after the stresses of yesterday. And pancakes seemed to fill the specification perfectly. Patrick hummed happily, sorting the ingredients into bowls and delivering them to the table, flipping the pancake onto a plate with its friends and pouring some more mixture into the pan somewhere in between. He would say that today felt like it was going to be a good day, but he'd said that yesterday..._anyway._ No more thoughts of yesterday. Focus on today.

Above the sizzling of the pancake in the pan, Patrick heard the shower turn on upstairs. Good. Lisbon was awake. Not long now before she'd discover the great feast. Of pancake.

* * *

Van Pelt sat heavily into her chair in the bull pen. She wasn't sure whether she felt up to working more of the Red John case file, but it was her job, and it needed to be done. She hadn't been able to unearth anything yesterday. So she had her fingers crossed that something would soon appear today. And she also had her fingers crossed that they would see Jane and Lisbon today.

As she sipped on a mug of hot coffee, briefly casting a glance over at Rigsby, who now somehow seemed to be a state of perfect health again, she suddenly remembered one vital piece of material that she'd forgotten yesterday. She almost slapped herself. What an idiot. Surveillance. There had to be something on surveillance. At least Red John leaving, if not getting in a car. She slammed her mug on the desk and shot out of the bull pen, causing Cho and Rigsby to look up, with confusion written on their faces, a hint of worry on Rigsby's.

* * *

Lisbon stepped out of the shower into the steaming bathroom fifteen minutes later and wrapped a towel around her slender form. She flicked her dark wet hair over her shoulder and wiped a clear patch onto the steamed up mirror. She briefly glanced at her reflection and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She looked tired. Then again, she wasn't really surprised. Yesterday had been shattering, and now that she looked back on it, it almost felt like it hadn't been her. Everything that had happened, everything that had taken her over was alien now. Oh, apart from many a thing concerning Patrick Jane. Yes, she still felt that. Those feelings were too strong to be going anywhere. Maybe a little stronger than she'd like to admit...

She quickly exited the bathroom and walked through her darkened bedroom to the wardrobe. She picked out a black vest top and a pair of straight cut trousers, her jacket already hanging on the back of the slightly crippled door. She slung them on the bed and swiftly dried off, dressed, and dried her hair, lastly applying a touch of makeup at the dressing table. Finally ready, she made her way downstairs, the smell of pancakes filling her nose. Slowly approaching the kitchen, she set her gaze on Patrick, doing a little dance as he worked away at the breakfast. She couldn't help the smirk rising onto her face.

'Having fun?' she asked, moving into the room, amusement lining her voice.

Patrick shot round, frying pan in hand, providing almost enough motion to send the pancake flying across the kitchen.

He grinned. 'How are you this morning?'

'Good...thanks,' Lisbon smiled, 'Pancakes?'

'Mhm,' Patrick replied, turning back to the stove.

Lisbon cast her eyes across the array of ingredients and the piled up plate of pancakes littering the table.

'Haven't _you_ been busy? How long have you been up?'

'A while.' Patrick replied, his voice temporarily losing the happy tone. The insomnia still wouldn't go. Not even in a different place. Not even when the previous day had contained strawberry hunts and the discovery of Lisbon's crush on him. It still persisted. And that's why the daylight was one of the best things in the world.

But Patrick promptly pulled himself out of that depressive hole and put a smile back on his face, flipping the last pancake onto the plate and flicking the stove off.

'Pancakes!' he declared, looking over his work.

Lisbon looked up at Patrick's happy face. How childish, yet fun, and wonderful he could be to have around. She really did love him sometimes...well...she loved him all the time really. She just didn't _like_ him some days. He created too much paperwork...but hey. Today was no time to complain about paperwork.

Patrick quickly rushed around to the other side of the table, pulling Lisbon's chair out for her.

'Madame,' he smirked, sweeping his hand, inviting her to sit.

Lisbon smiled amusedly at him and took her place. 'Thank you.'

Patrick nodded and moved round to his chair, sitting and grinning at Lisbon.

'Tuck in!'

* * *

Van Pelt sat in the surveillance room, concentrating fully on the footage that whirred away on the screen. Quarter past five was it? Somewhere around there. She stared at the CBI building entrance, everybody's activities from yesterday, zooming past in high speed. And then she saw him. She slammed the play button and watched as the Asian man made his way from the building, a badly hidden smirk on his face.

She watched as he exited the gates as if nothing had happened. She watched as he left, walking straight past the security without a sound. And she watched as he disappeared from the view of the camera. Heading left. That gave them...something? Maybe somebody would have seen him? Be able to give them something else on where he was headed.

Before she left, Van Pelt quickly rewound and enhanced the picture, taking a snapshot of him. A snapshot of his face, as he briefly glanced round. She noted the blood spots only just visible on his wrists as his hands dug deep into his coat pockets, and the small blood spatters on his trouser legs. The guards wouldn't even have noticed it.

* * *

Patrick and Lisbon climbed into Lisbon's car after breakfast, sufficiently full of pancake. Patrick had lost the fight to drive, ending up in him getting the last pancake as consolation. He kept insisting that his driving skills were fine. Lisbon just had an irrational fear. He sat in the passenger seat, a mock grumpy expression on his face.

'Oh, pull yourself together, Jane. You can drive your own car. Not mine.'

'We really must get you over your fear Lisbon. My driving's fine and you know it.'

'No it's not.'

'You trusted me in that sports car. And yet you won't trust me in a normal car. What's with that?'

'A sports car is different.'

'No it's not.'

'Oh shush. You're not driving. Just be happy with the pancake.'

Patrick felt a smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth as he watched Lisbon's expression crumple into concentration. She leant over and pushed the key into the ignition, bringing the engine spurting to life.

* * *

'Rigsby?'

'Yeah? You alright?' Rigsby asked Van Pelt as she came back into the bull pen looking a little flustered.

'Yeah. I found sound surveillance footage of Red John leaving the building. We could ask people whether they've seen him? And where he's going.'

Rigsby nodded. 'Sounds good. Cho?'

'I'll stay here,' the other agent replied quietly, sifting through a pile of papers.

'Okay,' Rigsby joined Van Pelt as they mounted the elevator and descended down towards the car park.

As the elevator dropped, Rigsby side glanced at Van Pelt. Why did he always feel nervous around her?

His hand brushed hers gently. Van Pelt turned her head towards him.

'Hey...' He gave her a weak smile.

'Hey,' Van Pelt smiled. She saw the way he looked at her. She could tell how much he liked her. Why couldn't she be as sure? She looked up into his penetrating eyes. Blushing, she turned her gaze away, looking anywhere but him.

Rigsby made to take her hand gently in his own, but the elevator doors pinged and the ground floor of the CBI could see them. Rigsby cleared his throat and left the elevator quickly.

* * *

Patrick tapped his thighs quietly, bobbing his head as if he was listening to music.

Lisbon cast another sideways glance at him and turned back to driving. She flicked the radio on. Patrick looked at Lisbon momentarily, pausing in his tapping. The corner of his mouth lifted as he watched her concentrate on the road. She was looking at him. And trying to hide it. But that little pink blush that grew on her cheeks told him everything. He smirked, looking out of the window at the white lines flashing past on the side of the road. He was glad she seemed to be back to normal today. He hated to see her like she had been yesterday. It hurt him. But now she was back to her usual self.

'You think they survived without us?' Patrick broke the silence.

'Hmm?' Lisbon brought herself back down to earth.

'You think they survived without us? Patrick repeated, a smile playing at his lips.

'I'm sure they were fine. They're big enough now,' Lisbon replied, watching the hard grey tarmac pass under the car.

'Lisbon?'

'Yes?'

'Why don't you just say it?'

Lisbon looked at him, 'Say what?'

Patrick raised an eyebrow.

'What?'

'It's plain as day you have a crush on me.'

If Lisbon wasn't awake beforehand, she definitely was now, as she swerved on the road momentarily. She brought the car back under control, her heart pounding. She couldn't tell whether that was because of the car swerving or because of what Patrick just said.

'I don't have a _crush _on you, Jane! Are you insane?' she scoffed.

'Lisbon. Don't deny it. I know that's your number one favourite thing to do around me...but it's just not gonna work.'

'And what makes you think I have a crush on you?'

'Oh, _I don't know_,' Patrick replied, looking out the window, 'Maybe the dream, maybe the way you keep casting a sideways glance at me...? Or maybe the way you kept _throwing _yourself into my arms yesterday?'

'Don't talk that way about yesterday, Jane. I was vulnerable. And no, I don't like to admit that, but yesterday was a bad day.'

Patrick silenced for a moment. 'You still have a crush on me.'

'No I don't!'

'It fascinates me when you lie, Lisbon.'

'I'm not lying!'

Patrick smirked. 'I think someone disagrees with youuu.'

'Shut up.'

Patrick's smirk widened as he looked out of the window.

Lisbon looked at him in the corner of her eye.

* * *

Rigsby pulled up at the first house, glancing at Van Pelt briefly before putting on the handbrake.

'Ok. First house. You wanna do it?' Rigsby asked.

'Aren't we both doing it?'

'Well..._yeah_.'

'Come on then.'

Rigsby joined Van Pelt on the sidewalk and looked up at the fresh white washed house.

'Nice place.' Rigsby complimented, beginning to walk up the front path with a copy of the picture that Van Pelt had pulled from the surveillance footage. He knocked on the front door and stood back a few steps, waiting for a reply. Van Pelt stood quietly behind him, ready to show her badge when the door was answered. Eventually the door swung open a crack and an old woman peered outside.

'Hello, ma'am. Agent Rigsby. Agent Van Pelt. CBI.' He introduced, holding up his badge.

'Y-Yes?' the old lady replied timidly.

'We were wondering if you'd seen this man. Yesterday.' He provided the photo.

'U-um...I don't think so, dear. Sorry.'

'Ok. Well, thank you for your help.' Rigsby nodded politely.

'Ok...' the lady replied, shutting the door carefully.

'One down...' Rigsby murmured, heading back to the sidewalk and onto the next house, Van Pelt in pursuit.

* * *

Bosco fidgeted under the bed sheets. Damn it. He badly wanted to go. He was losing his mind in here. And he'd only been here for half a day and a night. Not that he didn't trust Lisbon with his case. Of course he trusted her. It was just that he couldn't bear to sit around while Red John had escaped. He needed to investigate. Research. Look at surveillance. He wanted to do it himself. He was the one that got into an explosion. He felt like he needed to be the one finding him. Paying him back.

Well, at least his blood bag had been removed. That was one thing down. One step closer to getting out. He wondered if he would be able to walk. The wood had been removed...no muscle damage by some sort of miracle. God, Mandy would freak when she found out...

Bosco shut that thought out of his head and picked himself up, swinging his legs gingerly over the side. He had to start trying to walk at some point. He removed the pads and wires that he was hooked up to. He touched his bare feet down on the cold laminate floor and winced as pain shot up his leg. He grabbed the IV stand for support and pulled himself up, shifting his weight onto his good leg, working up the confidence to put some weight on the worse one.

He carefully pressed his foot onto the floor and leant forward. He ignored the spiking pain and pulled his other leg forward, stumbling slightly as the weakness stopped his injured leg from functioning properly. Bosco hissed in pain, pulling himself up to full height again. He could feel the stitches pulling at his thigh. Next step...

* * *

Lisbon pulled into the car park after passing through the guards at the entrance. She brought the car to a halt in a free space and applied the handbrake with a loud creak. She undid her seatbelt and seemed to shoot out of the car seat and onto the tarmac, not really wanting to stay in the car with that annoying consultant much longer. She didn't need him to know that she was unearthing feelings for him. But she guessed she was stupid for thinking that he wouldn't find out. He knew everything. He always did. She clicked the key, setting off the automated locking system as soon as Patrick was out.

She entered the building ahead of Patrick, greeting a few people as they greeted her. She got into the elevator and hit the button, waiting for the doors to close. If Patrick didn't make it in in time, he would just have to ride alone.

But as it was, he did make it time. As Lisbon thought, the elevator slowly rising, she suddenly realised that being in a grump with him for the rest of the day probably wasn't the best course of action. Surely, that would provide even more evidence that what he said was true? Even though it was, she was just going to try and deny it to him. _She_ would always have to live with the fact that she had feelings for him. But that was just life.

Ugh. Love was a pain in the ass. _Just_ like Jane!

**A/N: Reviewsies. (this is my new word) =D **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry it's been a bit of a long wait. But thank you to all my lovely reviewers. You are very much loved.**

Chapter 10

Lisbon tapped her foot impatiently as the elevator came to a steady halt. The doors pinged open. And she was out. Making her way into the bull pen to greet her team, she was only met with one out of the three. Patrick strode past her, removing his jacket, and leapt onto the couch, making it creak slightly.

'Oh...hey, Cho.' He remembered his colleague.

'Jane. Lisbon. You're back.'

'Yeah,' Lisbon replied.

'You ok?' Cho asked.

Lisbon took a deep breath in and considered. 'Yeah...I think I'm ok.'

'She's wonderful,' Patrick added, 'She has a crush on me.' A cheeky smile lit up his face as he snuggled into the couch.

'Jane!' Lisbon exclaimed, yet again, wanting to hit him with the nearest object. It wasn't a frying pan this time. It was Van Pelt's laptop. If only she'd had a cushion to throw. But maybe she needed the cushion more to cover the burning pink flooding her cheeks.

Cho raised his eyebrows, but made no further comment.

'I _don't _have a crush on him, Cho,' Lisbon tried to convince the faintly smirking Asian man.

'Whatever.'

Lisbon narrowed her eyes.

'But Lisbon,' Cho remembered the thing he probably shouldn't have forgotten, 'Can we talk...in private?' he mouthed, gesturing at Patrick.

'Hmm...something I shouldn't hear about, Cho?' Patrick said, from behind closed eyes.

If Cho had expressed his feelings, he would have grimaced, but he simply stared at Patrick.

'No.'

Lisbon nodded in the direction of her office. Cho followed, leaving Patrick to guess, if he could.

Once inside Cho shut the door behind him and looked seriously into Lisbon's eyes.

'What is it Cho?'

'We had a problem while you were gone.'

'What, you couldn't cope without me?' Lisbon joked.

However, she was only returned with a dead serious expression.

'What happened?' Lisbon asked, slightly worried.

'Red John.'

'He's got another victim?'

'Yes.'

'Where? Who?'

'Interrogation. Jack Bulmer.'

'What do you mean, interrogation? The victim survived?'

Cho looked around, took a deep breath and gestured out the door. 'Come with me.'

Lisbon's brows knitted together as she followed Cho from her office and towards the interrogation rooms. Something gave her an odd feeling. Butterflies, flitting softly in her stomach as she followed her agent.

Cho finally came to a halt outside the first interrogation room, putting his hands on his hips, nodding Lisbon in the direction of the room. Lisbon glanced at Cho concernedly and stepped forward, not breaking eye contact with him until she stood before the door. She opened it wide and looked in. Her eyes adjusted to the shadowy darkness.

'Oh my God...' Lisbon stepped back, door wide open, eyes even wider. She was overwhelmed with the thick iron scent that clung to her tongue. Her jaw worked, trying to form words. 'Jack...? Jack Bulmer?'

Cho nodded.

'How did this happen?'

'Bosco brought in someone named Terry yesterday who claimed to know Red John. He followed the information that the guy gave him to a house, and while he was gone, Terry killed Jack and left us with this.'

Lisbon could barely process it all. 'So wait...Terry. Terry was Red John?'

Cho nodded again. 'We think so.'

Lisbon ran a clammy hand through her dark hair, trying to figure out what it meant. What the purpose was.

'But surely...he's just given us his identity though? It could be a fake name but we know what he looks like, right?'

'Possibly, but it could have been a disguise. I doubt he'd walk in here and basically give himself to us.'

'Who walk in here and basically give himself to us?' Patrick startled the two agents, 'It was getting kinda lone-'

Lisbon slammed the door shut and stood in front of it. Patrick gave her a suspicious glance. 'Is there something I shouldn't see?'

Lisbon nodded fervently.

Patrick narrowed his eyes. The way Lisbon's head was moving up and down far too fast made him wary. He stepped forward and tried to reach out for the door handle, but Lisbon slapped his hand aside.

'Ow!' Patrick gave Lisbon a hurt look.

'It's a..._surprise_,' Lisbon told him, trying to get Patrick to go away.

'Meh...I hate surprises....' Patrick took Lisbon's shoulders in his hands and moved her round. He knew how much she hated being overpowered, but something told him that there was something bad behind that door. And him being the normal, fearing citizen that he was, wanted to know exactly what was in there. He pushed down the door handle and stepped inside. His heart almost skipped a beat. He stopped dead in his tracks. Lisbon grimaced from outside. Patrick suddenly stepped back out, slamming the door behind him and pointing fearfully at the door.

'That isn't possible. That _is not _possible,' Patrick spoke shakily, 'What happened?'

His stomach turned too many times to count. He felt nauseous, choking on the heavy scent of blood. Cho simply stared sadly back at him, not wanting to explain again.

'Damn it Cho, you better tell me what happened. Right now.'

Cho inhaled deeply and looked at the floor.

'CHO!' Patrick was losing it. If someone didn't say something _right _now, he might...he didn't know what he might do, but he knew it wouldn't be good.

Cho glanced at Lisbon, who looked down and nodded briefly.

'Jane...'

'Yes?' Patrick replied impatiently.

'Red John was here.'

'Well it _figures. _When? Why? _How_?'

'Bosco got an anonymous call yesterday, and followed it to the location, picked a guy up named Terry, who claimed to have known Red John, and then followed the information to another house.'

Patrick listened silently, an engulfing sense of fear, anger, sadness and hate threatening to drown him. A lump was forming in his throat, almost choking. His eyes flickered over to Lisbon, for just a second, who still had her eyes to the floor.

'Terry was Red John. He killed the guard watching the room.'

Patrick felt hot tears jeopardizing the clarity of his vision.

'Red John...doesn't do that,' Patrick murmured, turning away from his colleagues, but swiftly back round again. 'He wouldn't risk it...it can't be him...' But even as he said those words, glancing at the door to the new hell inflicted on the CBI, he knew, just _knew_, that it was Red John. He didn't know what would possess that man to risk everything just to toy with them...but it had happened, and there was nothing they could do about it.

'Which guard?' Patrick asked, his voice thick with compressed rage.

'Jack Bulmer.'

Patrick ran his fingers lightly over his forehead, clenching his jaw tight. He marched back to the bull pen, sharing a brief glance with Lisbon as she looked up.

Jack Bulmer had been a good man. Always knew right from wrong, and was so kind, caring. And now his wife and two children would have to live without him because of Red John's beef with Patrick. Yes, Patrick felt like he was the one to blame. If it hadn't been for him joining the CBI, Jack Bulmer would probably still be alive. Red John wouldn't have gone to such lengths to show his power over them. It was a sick game, and too many people were getting caught in the crossfire because of it.

Patrick strode from bull pen to kitchen and back again, not totally sure what he was doing. He just felt so _angry_. With himself, and Red John...

Only on the odd occasion did Patrick feel violent, and this was _definitely_ one of those occasions. He could have brought a fist down on something, thrown something, broken something...just anything that might vent the anger out of him. The image of the bloody smiley was once again scorched into the back of his mind, burning angrily, and mockingly. It was this. This _image_, that sent him so close to the edge that coming out in one piece was a miracle. He stopped mid-pace and strode back to Lisbon and Cho. He rethought, marching away again, and rethought, going back again.

'...Where's Bosco?'

'In hospital,' Cho replied.

Patrick and Lisbon both yelled 'What?!' in perfectunison.

'The lead he followed took him to a house rigged with explosive,' Cho explained to his two colleagues, 'He was in the explosion.'

Patrick grimaced, while Lisbon's jaw dropped. 'Is he ok?!' Lisbon demanded.

'Yes. He's gonna be ok.'

Both Patrick and Lisbon took on an expression of relief.

'I've...got to go see him,' Lisbon announced. She headed for the elevator without a second thought, only pausing to ask where Van Pelt and Rigsby were.

'They're asking close-by residences whether anybody saw 'Terry' yesterday,' Cho replied.

'Okay,' Lisbon responded, 'Jane? Are you coming?'

'Urm...' Patrick looked from the interrogation room door, to Cho, to Lisbon and back again, 'I'll...come with.'

He needed to find out why Bosco had messaged him about the Red John evidence to begin with anyway.

* * *

By now, Van Pelt had begun knocking on doors instead of Rigsby. This was the eleventh door. Nothing had come up so far. Van Pelt rapped her knuckles on the polished white wood and stood back, ready to brandish the photo in the next home owner's face. Well, not quite in their face. The young agent looked down at her shoes, tapping her toe on the panelled floor of the veranda. She leant forward and knocked again.

'Hello?' she called, 'Anybody home?'

For a moment, there was no reply, but eventually, after a few knocks and scrapes and strangled cat mews, the door was flung open.

'Sorry,' apologized the young woman inside, looking a bit flustered, 'The cat was...having issues...' she gave a weak smile. Her long blonde hair hung over her shoulders looking a bit dishevelled.

Van Pelt smiled slightly, surveying the torn shirt that adorned the woman's upper half, and the partially shredded trousers that covered the lower half.

'Violent cat,' she commented.

'Hmm...so what can I do for you?' the woman asked.

Van Pelt suddenly remembered what she was there for and unclipped her badge from her belt, showing it to the woman carefully. 'CBI.'

'What's the problem?'

'Oh, no problem, we were just wondering whether you'd seen this man at all yesterday, maybe walking past here in the afternoon?'

The woman looked closely at the photograph of 'Terry Yeoker'. Her brows knitted together in concentration.

'Urm...I...might have done actually. I was sorting out the flowerbeds when I think he walked past. He had that same jacket on.'

Van Pelt quickly became optimistic. 'Okay. Can you tell me which way he was going?'

'That way,' the woman pointed to her right, which was only to be expected considering that that was the path leading away from the CBI building.

'Did you see anything else? Maybe he got into a vehicle? Went into a house?'

Yes, the probability that Red John, the notorious serial killer, living only a couple of blocks away from the CBI headquarters was probably a billion to one...but hey.

'Um...' the blonde thought for a moment, 'I think he got into a car just on that corner there.' She pointed again, but this time at the point where the road turned off.

Van Pelt's heart skipped a beat and pounded faster. 'Could...you give me a description of that car?'

'Hmm...I think it was a blue Ford Mustang...1968?'

Van Pelt couldn't have had more butterflies stuffed in her stomach if she'd tried.

'My Dad's a car mechanic...I kind of...pick up these things. Car models and manufacturers...'

Van Pelt looked excitedly back at Rigsby. He grinned in return.

'Is there anything else you can tell us? Registration plate?'

The woman's face contorted, racking her brains. 'No...all I can think is that it began with S.'

'Okay. Thank you. Thank you very much for your assistance.'

The woman nodded with a smile.

'Oh, and good luck with the cat,' Van Pelt added with a smile.

The blonde laughed. 'Yes. Thanks.'

Van Pelt and Rigsby made their way back down the path with wide smiles on their faces.

'We got a car!' Van Pelt said happily.

'Well, I think that deserves food...or a drink.'

Van Pelt rolled her eyes with a smirk. Always food on the mind with Wayne Rigsby.

* * *

Lisbon sat down quietly at Bosco's bedside in the General Hospital. Patrick stood in the corner, watching the cardiac monitor bleep steadily.

'Sam?' Lisbon whispered in Bosco's ear.

Bosco's eyes blinked open blearily. He shifted his head to the right, where Lisbon was sat.

'Teresa?'

'Hey. I hear you've been up and around before you're s'posed to. Hit your head.' Lisbon smiled slightly.

'Hmm...I was wondering why I couldn't remember what had happened...' Bosco smiled wryly and he noticed how dry his throat was, swallowing thickly. 'Could you get me a glass of water?'

Lisbon looked around. 'Yeah...'

Patrick was already up at the counter in the corner, pouring a glass for Bosco. He silently walked over and handed it to Lisbon.

'Thanks, Jane,' Lisbon said.

Patrick nodded.

'Hey, Jane,' Bosco only just realised that the consultant was in the room.

Patrick proceeded to nod in Bosco's direction as well, before moving back to his corner again.

'So, I hear neither of you were at work yesterday,' Bosco told them, his eyebrow raised tiredly.

'Yeah...I had...family issues,' Lisbon replied, trying to throw the topic off before it got to her again.

'What happened?' Bosco asked concernedly.

'Um...I...my...'

'Her brother was killed...hit and run.' Patrick provided gently, seeing how difficult it was for Lisbon to say it.

Lisbon looked back at Patrick with eyes on the verge of tears.

'Oh God...Teresa...I'm sorry,' Bosco pushed himself up in the pillows, tightening a wired up hand around Lisbon's.

'Nah...wasn't you're fault,' Lisbon was trying desperately to care as little as possible, because she remembered the deep dark holes she got herself in yesterday, and she had no plans for return trips.

Patrick stood in the corner, wishing for his own hand to be around Lisbon's instead of Bosco's. He wanted to be the one there with her when she cried about her brother. He wanted to be the one there to hold her hand and tell her he was sorry, and tell her he would be there for her. But he restricted himself to the shadowy corner, watching their hands entwine.

'If there's anything you need, Teresa, I'm here,' Bosco promised her.

'Sam. You're the one in the hospital bed. We need to get you better before you can look after me,' Lisbon smiled slightly.

Bosco laughed faintly.

'So, I presume Jane was with you?'

Lisbon nodded. 'Managed to break a door..._two_ doors actually.'

'Hey, the front door wasn't my fault. But I still got it fixed for you,' Patrick complained.

'Well, yeah,' Lisbon looked at him, 'I s'pose you made up for the other door...in your own kind of way...'

Bosco watched the two smile at each other. He could easily tell that there was something between them. A certain sort of chemistry. Even if he loved Lisbon himself, he could never deny the looks that Patrick and Teresa shared on the occasion.

Lisbon eventually tore her eyes away from Patrick when she realised she'd been staring too long, with a slight pink touch dashing her cheeks. She cleared her throat quietly.

'So, how are you hanging in there Sam?'

'Oh...I'm alright. Want to get back to work soon though. We've got a big case.'

Lisbon nodded. 'But you make sure you get your rest first. You get a chunk of wood through your leg, and you're entitled to a lot of rest.'

The corner of Bosco's mouth lifted slightly. The room was silent for a few moments.

Bosco looked from the mysterious shadowy figure of Patrick in the corner, to Lisbon, and motioned for her to lean in. Lisbon cocked her head slightly, her brows knitting together. Bosco motioned again. Lisbon followed Bosco's instruction. Patrick watched interestedly, trying not to look it. Bosco whispered something into Lisbon's ear. And whatever that something was, it surprised her. She moved back, her eyes slightly wider than before.

'Sam...!' she whispered back, but audibly enough for Patrick to here, 'He does _not_.'

Patrick had a pretty good idea what had been said, but Bosco's expression didn't give anything away. He would have to ask Lisbon later. Just to confirm.

'It's rude to whisper,' Patrick said matter-of-factly, finally deciding to grab the other chair and sit in the light.

'_Sorry_ Jane,' Bosco smiled, 'But how else do you talk privately when there are other people in the room?'

'You don't.'

An awkward silence filled the room for a few seconds.

'Why did you tell me about the new lead?' Patrick asked suddenly.

'Huh...? _Oh._'

'I mean, it's not as if you wanted to tell me _anything_ before. And then when you had a big breakthrough...you told me. Why?'

Bosco swiped his hand over his head, scratching the back of his neck.

'Y'know what, Jane? I don't know.'

Patrick continued to look at him, folding his arms as he slouched into the chair slightly.

'See you wouldn't do that normally. You always try to keep me at arms length. Everything _about _you resists me.'

'Not everything, Jane. Just the part of me that wants to keep you out of the case.'

'Why did you text me then?'

'I don't know, Jane.'

'Unless...' Patrick considered for a moment, 'you knew I would be at Lisbon's and you wanted me to choose between Lisbon and Red John.'

'What?'

'Jane?' Lisbon turned round abruptly, giving him a bewildered look.

Patrick shrugged.

'Are you trying to suggest that I had something to do with Lisbon's brother?' Bosco asked incredulously.

Patrick again, shrugged.

'It's obvious that you love her, so maybe you wanted to size me up? See if I would care enough to stay with her?'

'Jane. Stop it! What the hell is wrong with you!?' Lisbon tried to cut Patrick off, get in the way of the crossfire.

Patrick glared at the speechless Bosco for just a moment before he met gazes with Lisbon. He was suddenly all too aware of what he just said. He froze, looking from one person to the other. He mentally swore. He rose from the seat and made for the door. Just before disappearing, he looked back round.

'Sorry...I..._sorry_.' And with that he was gone from sight.

Lisbon looked apologetically back at Bosco, who looked at her confusedly, and a little hurt.

* * *

Patrick's frustrated pacing had started up again as he stood outside the hospital. The sun scorched the ground, causing waves of heat to shimmer off the car park. Patrick took a seat on a bench situated just in the shade and just outside the entrance. He chucked his jacket beside him and slipped a finger into his collar, tugging at it slightly even though it wasn't tight.

Was it him, or had he just accused Bosco of killing Lisbon's brother? Why did he do that? He put his head in his hands, tangling his fingers into the blonde curls. He breathed steadily, trying to sort out his thoughts. His eyes closed, blocking out the harsh light that reflected off of the burning white concrete.

He couldn't explain what had happened back there. But he always managed to screw things up. Things would go swimmingly until his stupid 'sixth sense' would come into play. And this time, he'd accused a colleague of murder and he had no idea what had possessed him to do it. His brain was still trying to make sense of the jumble of Tommy's death, Lisbon's gun incident and Red John's attack on the CBI. And it left him mentally disorientated. Maybe that's what caused it. He'd been tipped on his head and the blood hadn't settled back yet. And he couldn't think clearly.

Patrick rubbed his temples slowly. All he could think was: Lisbon will never forgive me.

**A/N: Reviewsiessss. :P**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I say it so many times. But thank you to my reviewers! ^_^**

Chapter 11

'I'm sorry, Sam,' Lisbon murmured, looking into her lap, 'I don't know what's wrong with him.'

'Really, don't worry. I shouldn't have told him.'

'Um...let me go and talk to him...if I can find him.'

Bosco nodded, meeting Lisbon's gaze as she stood from her seat. Lisbon tugged her jacket around her tighter.

'I'll be back in a minute.'

Lisbon swiftly left the room, and once out, searched left and right as if Patrick might have left a trail of breadcrumbs along the cold linoleum floor. She took a deep breath and chose left. The reception was that way.

The words that had fallen haphazardly from Patrick's mouth kept running over and over again in her head. It tied her brain in knots. If she understood correctly, he had admitted that he loved her...but had accused Bosco of being involved with her brother's death at the same time. She wasn't sure how to react when two, so very different feelings had been presented in such a short space of time. Or how to react when the man admitted feelings, but still told people that he was married...

Lisbon looked down at the floor passing underneath her, her arms tightly wrapped around her waist. She took another deep breath. She knew that Patrick couldn't possibly have meant what he said about Bosco. He was just troubled right now. Everyone was. Red John had got into the CBI without raising any alarms. That would trouble anyone.

She hoped that someday, they would be able to catch the serial killer. To let Patrick find some sort of peace. To let him live life without the dark shadow looming over his head and to have a life outside of Red John. But right now, he needed to stay stable, not lose his head. Every time the serial killer made a move, they got closer. They got new clues. And that was what the focus needed to be on.

Lisbon reached the reception desk and snapped out of her silent reverie. Her eyes skimmed over the area in search of the blonde consultant that she so desperately needed to talk to, checking every seat. But he didn't present himself. Only rows of waiting patients could be seen in the clinic, sitting with each of their ailments, having been assured by the receptionist that a doctor would be with them soon.

Lisbon proceeded to walk from the entrance and again, scan for signs of Jane-life. From right to left, she saw bushes and benches and solid concrete floor, but eventually came to rest on Patrick, sat on a weathered bench just to the left. He sat on the edge of the seat, his elbows resting on his thighs and his head buried in his hands. Lisbon's arms dropped to her side and she let out a slow melancholy sigh. She began her slow walk towards him, wondering whether he could see that she was there. She watched his jaw clench and unclench tightly. The sign of frustration and annoyance.

Shifting Patrick's jacket to the side, Lisbon perched herself beside him, the bench creaking slightly under the added weight.

'Hey...' she murmured quietly.

Patrick suddenly sat up, sniffing slightly. He gave Lisbon a quick sideways glance before looking straight on, as if the small plant in the neatly laid out flower beds was of extreme interest to him.

'Are you alright?' Lisbon asked, placing a hand on his forearm carefully. Patrick nodded briefly, but then paused and rethought.

'No. No, I don't think I am.'

Lisbon's face contorted sympathetically.

'Jane. I know that the new Red John thing has set you off...but I need you to keep control for me. I don't want to see you fall down. I know you can be stronger than this. Don't let Red John get the better of you, because you know we need your help to catch him. And this new lead could give us so much. And we need you...'

Patrick looked more fully at Lisbon, as if searching for reassurance. He didn't like the feeling that he was almost touching back with who he used to be when he was locked in that bland white room with Sophie, the smeary smiley that he'd drawn on the wall in his own blood so vividly pictured in his mind. He shivered slightly, despite the heat. He absentmindedly traced the fading scar that tracked down his forearm, marring the soft skin, with his finger tip. It caused the hairs to stand on end with the sensitivity.

'I'm sorry...for everything I said back there Lisbon. I didn't mean to...'

'I know. I know it wasn't intentional.'

Patrick nodded.

'Well...are we ok then?'

'Why wouldn't we be?'

'Because I was being an ass?'

'It wasn't your fault, Jane. You're just a bit mentally disorientated because of the Red John thing.'

Patrick nodded slowly again. 'I'm glad you're so understanding Lisbon...really, I'm very grateful.'

Lisbon smiled softly. 'Well, that's nice to hear, especially seen as I _don't _understand you half the time.' She nudged his shoulder.

He looked at her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

'Well...I think we should be going,' Patrick said eventually, decisively. He stood up, patting his stomach while his eyes scanned the area.

'What? You're not going to stay here any longer?'

'Well...I don't think Bosco'll want me in there. Do you?'

'Oh, come on, he didn't take it seriously Jane. He knows what you're like.'

'Well let's say _I_ wouldn't be comfortable being in there anymore.'

'Please Jane, I would appreciate it if you stayed...'

Patrick's brows knitted together. 'You would? You actually _want _my company?'

Lisbon looked at him frustratedly. 'Well, yeah, _sometimes_ you make good company. And I want to talk to you about something anyway.'

'What would that be?'

'Um...sit down.'

Patrick looked at her questioningly.

Lisbon nodded to the space on the bench beside her. The consultant inwardly grimaced. He knew what she was going to ask about. And no, he didn't particularly want to explain it. He shouldn't have said it in the first place; when he knew he had his family to think about right now. And Red John. He couldn't fathom why those words had slipped into his rant at Bosco. And it frustrated him. Maybe she would drop it. That would be...good? Or would it? Did he really need to push her away? But anyway, before he got too deep in those kinds of thoughts, he should probably listen to what she had to say first.

He reluctantly reclaimed his seat on the bench and draped his arm over the back, crossing his legs.

'Yes?'

'What you said...other than about my brother...'

Patrick took a deep breath and looked into his lap, scratching the tip of his index finger with his thumbnail.

'I...wasn't thinking straight. Like you said. It didn't mean anything,' Patrick replied, not waiting for her to expand any further.

Lisbon averted her gaze into her lap as well. She was evidently hurt by the bluntness of Patrick's answer, the cruelty that it seemed to have. 'Oh...'

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.' Patrick continued, seemingly unaware of how much this was hurting the woman sat beside him.

'Of course...' Lisbon could feel tears stinging at her eyes like a swarm of bees. But to be honest, she wasn't sure why she had expected anymore than she got. He was still attached to his family like they were still alive, and he was all too focused on Red John. He wasn't about to show any feelings for anyone else. She shouldn't have brought it up. She should have known he would become all closed up when directly asked about it.

Patrick stood up again, gathering his jacket up from the other side of Lisbon and walked away towards the road.

Lisbon sat there for just a moment, glancing round the area, trying to banish the tears in her eyes. She was _definitely _stronger than this. She could take rejection from a broken man...couldn't she? Of course she could. She was being silly, expecting Patrick to simply open up and take her into his arms. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She gathered herself up. _Stupid_. She walked back to the hospital entrance, towards Bosco's room. 'Damn it, Teresa Lisbon,' she told herself, '_Pull yourself together!_'

Patrick cursed in his head too many times to count. Too many. He _really _hated himself sometimes. What the _hell _had possessed him to say that to Teresa? Why did he always have to run away? Why did he always have to try and escape from anything that would make him _remotely _human? He always hurt people when he got too full up with Red John...the avengeance of his family. He wished it wasn't so. He _wished _he could focus on something else as well. But at the most important times, it would come through, and his hunger to hunt down Red John would kill anything else. Make him become a jerk. So thoughtless and detached from what others might feel.

He knew all too well how much he'd hurt the team, mostly Lisbon, when he'd gone to try and find Red John on his own, with a man that would have taken his life if Lisbon hadn't been there at the crucial moment. He had all too many things to thank his boss for, but all he seemed to be able to do when it came down to it was throw it back in her face. He didn't deserve her. Even if he'd said yes. He didn't deserve such a perfect woman...

His foot lashed out at a passing car, slamming into the tyre, not even caring whose it was. The alarm blared loudly, but he couldn't care less as he began the walk from the car park back to the CBI.

* * *

Van Pelt tapped impatiently on the keys of her laptop, waiting, waiting, for the system to give her some kind of information on the Ford Mustang 1968. She prayed to all she held dear that something would come up. Her eyes flashed over at Rigsby, who was poring over file after file, searching for something that might be of use, when suddenly the computer blipped. Her head snapped back round and she quickly scanned over the screen. The car, a blue Ford Mustang 1968, registration plate: SY89 OTG was registered to a Bliss Matthews, who lived just outside Sacramento. 34 Westofer Road.

'Wayne...we've got a hit.'

Rigsby promptly raised his head from the mound of paperwork on his desk and passed the message onto Cho as the other agent walked into the bull pen with a mug of steaming coffee. They both paid full attention as Van Pelt read over the information that her screen provided.

'She's clean. No previous offences. Maybe the car was stolen?'

'Or maybe she's related,' Cho offered.

'Check it out?'

'Definitely,' Rigsby replied, gathering up his jacket and pulling it round his muscular shoulders.

An hour later and Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby were stood outside the door of 34 Westofer Road, the dust from the track in front of the house flying through the humid air. Taking a deep breath each and glancing around their group, the agents stepped up to the front door, Cho rapping his knuckles on the splintered wood.

'Mrs Matthews!' he called.

Soon, the door opened a crack and a worn, wrinkled, tall, dark haired woman peered out.

'Mrs Matthews? We're from the CBI. We need to talk to you.'

The woman's jaw clenched suddenly and a nervous twinkle hit her eye. She became a little fidgety. She seemingly checked that the chain was on the door before she answered.

'Um...could you give me a minute? I'm in a dreadful mess in here,' she told the three agents while trying to control the edgy shake in her voice.

Cho thought a moment, his deadpan expression not changing in the slightest. 'We don't mind mess.'

'But, please, I really wouldn't want you coming in just yet.'

Cho looked around at Van Pelt and Rigsby. But the door was slammed shut before he could reply.

'Mrs Matthews! Open the door!' Cho knocked on the door heavily.

Behind the front door, Bliss ran for the kitchen, snatching up the phone and slamming the speed dial button for her son. Her heart pounded as the rings echoed in her ears and the pounding on the door filled her head. The phone line crackled and the line was open.

'Timmy! Don't come home! Please, _don't come home._ They've found me...'

She slammed the phone down on the speechless man at the other end of the line as the door was smashed open by the CBI agents. Bliss panicked and tried to make a run for it. She thanked the lord that her daughter wasn't here. She made for the back door, her fitness not quite drained of her yet. She beheaded dandelions and brownie flowers as her shoes clipped them heavily, pelting through the back yard, not having a clue where she was supposed to run to. After all, she wasn't young enough to start jumping over and clambering up fences. But she just had to run. At least try to escape.

But the CBI agents were too fast for her and soon she was handcuffed on the ground where she had fallen. Then being dragged unwillingly to the back of the CBI SUV. She wondered how they had been found...she knew Timmy was always so careful. What had he done? What had he left behind?

* * *

An hour after walking back into the hospital, Lisbon said her goodbyes to Bosco, ready to go back to work now. She had told Bosco what had happened. After all, he'd been the one to say that Patrick had a thing for her before the consultant had kicked off. Bosco had been supportive, and friendly, as he always was towards her, managing to cheer her up. She sighed heavily as she clambered into her SUV, almost wanting nothing more than to go home and watch a film with some ice cream. But she was a CBI agent, and she had work to do. _Glorious _paperwork. Not.

Bringing the engine roaring to life with the twist of the key, Lisbon pulled out of the car park and began the drive back to the headquarters. She flicked the radio on, hating the silence that the car provided. Susie Suh began to sing out of the speakers located around the car. One of her favourite songs. Feather In The Wind. She was tempted to close her eyes and just sit back, letting the gentle music fill her up, but that would most likely mean crashing. Into Patrick. Wait...what? She had to take a double take, glancing back at the edge of the pavement, where her colleague was sat in between the brush scattering the concrete paving.

Her brows knitted together, wondering why he was sat there. Her heart began to pound faster as she considered picking him up. He looked all too depressed, miserable, just to leave him there. But at the same time, she wasn't really sure she wanted to sit in the same area as him quite yet. But despite this, she found herself watching his forlorn figure through the rear view as she backed up towards him, the road thankfully empty. Stopping beside him, she reached for the door handle and flung the door open.

'Jane?'

Patrick looked up into the SUV, his face full of sad anger.

'Come on,' Lisbon took a deep breath inviting him onto the seat.

'I don't think I should.'

'Why not?'

'I might end up hurting you again.'

'What? You didn't hurt me,' she lied.

Patrick laughed dryly. 'Course I did, Lisbon. I know I did.'

'Well...I should have known better than to raise it up. I know the position you're in. I shouldn't have expected more.'

'Still. I don't think it's a good idea for me to get in.'

'Don't be silly, Jane. I'm not leaving until your ass is parked in this seat.'

Patrick looked up at her, his eyes telling how he felt. Lisbon watched him expectantly. Eventually he submitted, but was wondering why Lisbon was acting so normal considering what he'd said. Pushing himself into the soft leather seat, Patrick shut the door quietly after him and turned his gaze out of the window. He felt the car pull away and watched the white line race away along the side of the road.

* * *

'Mrs Matthews,' Cho began, sitting himself down in the seat opposite.

'I'm not telling you anything,' Bliss snapped.

'You want to tell us why you ran?'

'No.'

'Maybe you're protecting someone?'

'No comment.'

'A violent man.'

'No comment.'

'A dangerous man.'

'No comment.'

'A sadistic serial killer.'

'No comment.'

'Maybe he threatens you and you keep quiet. Maybe he threatens what he does to his victims, on you, Mrs Matthews. Is that why you're protecting him?'

'My Timmy does not _threaten _me. He is my son. And I'll go to any lengths to protect him.'

Bliss glared distastefully at Cho, the over head lights causing her wrinkles to stand out and make her just a bit more threatening.

'You're protecting a very dangerous man, Mrs Matthews.'

'He's not _dangerous_. He's my _son_.'

'So if you don't think a serial killer is dangerous, Mrs Matthews, what do you consider as dangerous?'

'You lot. CBI. The ones trying to catch him and throw him in jail! My Timmy has good reason for what he does. You're threatening him.'

'And what would that reason be?'

'No comment.'

Cho rolled his eyes frustratedly, leaning back in his chair.

'Y'know, agent. I'd be fascinated to meet...what's his name? Jane? _Patrick _Jane.'

'Why would that be?'

'My son was _very _pleased with his work on that one. I'd be interested to meet him...what kind of a mother doesn't show interest in their children's work?'

'A bad one.'

'Exactly.'

'I'm sorry. You can't see him.'

'Oh...' Bliss sighed disappointedly, 'Well, I'm sure he'll come of his own accord.'

Cho stared blankly at Bliss. He hated people like this; people who gave them nothing and simply tried to play around with them. He didn't look forward to Patrick arriving again. He would be on her like a ton of bricks. He knew all too well about what Patrick could be like around the subject of Red John. How dangerous his talk could get.

Cho folded his arms, ready to engage further interrogation...

**A/N: We're getting _closer_, we're getting _closer_... :D Reviewsies? ^_^**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thank you to beautiful reviewers :D Enjoy the new chapter!**

Chapter 12

Patrick dropped out of the car onto the sizzling concrete outside the CBI headquarters, his feet feeling heavy and tired. He dragged his jacket off of the seat behind him, hanging it over his arm instead of trying to look slick with it hanging over his shoulder. He was in the situation where he knew he should be saying something, but it just wouldn't come out. This being the case, silence was the only thing that had filled the air for the whole car journey, and to say it was awkward would be an understatement.

Patrick scratched his forehead before pushing the SUV's door shut. The nervousness that was so unlike him, filled his whole self as he glanced over at Teresa Lisbon, walking stiffly beside him as they made for the entrance to the CBI Headquarters. Eventually, he would get himself with Lisbon, alone, so that he couldn't escape, and tell her the truth. But for now, a sorry that wouldn't quite come out would have to do.

Standing slightly apart in the elevator, they were both taking a side glance at each other every few seconds, just because of the butterflies in their stomachs.

Patrick thought how much he needed his couch. How much that good old couch did to comfort and support him. Even if it was only a stuffed and springified lump of leather, it was therapeutic in its own little way.

Lisbon thought how much she needed to be sat on the couch at home, curled up in an oversized shirt that drowned her small frame, with a bowl of popcorn and an old film. It was just the sort of thing that would help her right now. And she would make sure it wasn't a romantic old film...

The doors pinged open and they both rushed out without a second thought, diverting away from each other onto their own paths, both ending up on their separate couches.

Van Pelt cast a glance at Patrick as he sank comfortably into the old brown leather couch beside his desk.

'Hey, Jane. Everything alright?'

Patrick took a deep breath, closing his eyes, mulling over that question. No. Everything wasn't alright.

'Yeah...fine,' he lied.

After a moment's silence, 'We got someone in by the way.' Van Pelt briefly looked over her shoulder, as if checking that Patrick was reacting in the right way.

'Who?' his eyes flashed open immediately, listening intently for the young agent's answer.

'Woman named Bliss Matthews. She's Red John's mom.'

'_Mom?_' Patrick repeated, his eyebrows creasing slightly. He was now sat up again, staring at Van Pelt, waiting impatiently for her to expand.

'Yeah. Turns out someone saw a man matching Red John's description getting into a Ford Mustang 1968. Which is registered to Bliss Matthews.'

'Do they live together?' Patrick's curiousness got the better of him, remembering what he'd said when he'd described the serial killer on TV...

'_As I told the police, he's a very ordinary looking man, mid thirties, medium height, he has thinning brown hair. He's methodical, and tidy. He keeps himself very clean. He works at a clerical job, lives with his mother or his sister, in a single storey blue house, with a citrus tree in the front yard... lemon, I think.'_

'Yeah...why?'

Patrick's face lit up in a smug grin for a fleeting moment before it was gone and he was dashing for the interrogation rooms.

'Jane!' Van Pelt called hopelessly after him.

Patrick found the right room and hopped into the observation room, his breathing slightly laboured as he stood before the one-way glass. He noticed the absence of Cho in the room, briefly wondering where he was, but soon being distracted by the woman sat in the dull spotlights. He immediately became silent, as if she might hear him. No smile took residence on his face as he simply watched her. _Red John's mother._ Finally he'd made a mistake. _Finally_, they could get closer to him.

Patrick's feet itched to take him into the room he was watching, but at the same time, they were glued to the spot. He didn't want to screw this up. He needed answers and if he made a wrong move, everything could be lost. He syked himself up, still watching as Bliss Matthews shifted in her seat uncomfortably, glancing around the walls and readjusting the way her clasped hands rested on the stainless steel table top. He rubbed his hands together vigorously.

And then Cho walked back in.

Patrick's whole worked up being slouched back down again and he looked frustratedly in Cho's direction, even though the agent couldn't see him. His eyes narrowed, but settled for watching the woman and how she reacted to Cho's questions for a while. Better to know someone before you run into a room and start firing off questions at them. Know someone in Patrick's understanding of the phrase anyways.

* * *

Lisbon's head sank back into the soft cushion positioned on the armrest of her office's sofa. Rarely did she use it, but today, this moment; it seemed like a good idea. She brought her feet tiredly up onto the other armrest and shut her eyes, breathing deeply. She placed her hands flat onto her stomach, listening to her breathing and trying to put herself in a place of calm. She knew she should be checking on what was happening with the case, but she couldn't be bothered right now. Teresa Lisbon couldn't be _bothered _to work. Everything had just completely drained her. Mentally, physically, every way. Tommy, Bosco, Jane and Red John...this was insane. Death, one-way love, near death, rejected love and a serial killer. Seriously. What kind of a combination was that? A tiring one, was what it was. And it made Lisbon want to sink into the couch she was laying on and just disappear.

Too much pain filled her heart right now. It felt like it had been torn out of her chest and thrown to the ground, becoming dirty and marred. She half wished that she hadn't become so vulnerable yesterday when Jane had been there, because it weakened her defences so, that she started showing her affection for him, and got her hopes up that something would happen between them. She brought the pain upon herself. She was like that.

* * *

Cho sipped his coffee and set the mug down on the table with a soft chink.

'Do you think I could get one of those?' Bliss asked, leaning forward and nodding at the coffee.

'No,' Cho shook his head.

Bliss shrugged, slouching back into her chair again and looking out of the blinded glass wall.

Cho simply looked at her, studied her, hoping to find a way in. But truth was, he just wasn't as good at reading people as Jane was.

'Look, I'm not saying anything to you. I won't give him up, so why don't you just totter off and do whatever else you agents do.' Bliss waved a hand dismissively in Cho's direction, still watching the corridor, as if watching for Patrick to stroll along and come in.

'One way or another, we _will _get information out of you, Mrs Matthews.'

'Is that a threat?'

'Maybe.'

'What, you gonna string me up on the racks and stretch the answers out of me? Because you'll have to do something mighty fine to get me to give up my son.'

Cho cocked his head, his expression still dead flat as road kill. 'Unfortunately, we don't have any of those.'

The corner of Bliss' mouth twitched with a sarcastic smile.

As silence descended upon the two, who were seemingly having a stare-off now, the door opened gently.

Enter Patrick Jane.

He shut the door softly behind him, his hand pausing on the handle slightly before turning into the room and meeting gazes with Bliss.

'What did I tell you agent? Came of his own accord,' Bliss smiled smugly.

Patrick looked grimly at the mother of Red John as he grabbed a chair from the side of the room and placed it carefully beside the table, like he usually did.

Cho leant back in his chair, watching Patrick wriggle into his seat before getting up and exiting the room. He knew that Jane would appreciate this moment alone.

'Patrick Jane,' Bliss announced.

'Bliss Matthews,' Patrick replied.

'How are you?' she asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

'Oh, I'm fine...but we're not here to talk about me, are we?'

'Who says?'

'Me.'

Bliss gave a snort of laughter.

'You're Red John's mom,' Patrick stated.

'Timothy's mom. Yes.'

Patrick's heart was pounding inside his chest, and for the first time, he found himself at a loss for words. How to proceed? He could see that the woman wouldn't easily give up anything.

'How does it feel, Patrick?'

'What?'

'How did it feel to come home to that face?'

In a second, Patrick's face told, like the pages of a book, how much that night tormented his whole being.

'Ahhh...I see,' Bliss gave a smug grin.

Patrick's jaw clenched tight as he fought back the salty tears that would surely surface.

'Timmy. He showed you all about gravity, didn't he? He brought you down to earth. And that's what people need. That's part of his job, you see. He shows people what real life is. Drags them out of the clouds.'

'You're happy with what he does?' Patrick almost choked.

'Wasn't at first...but...que sera, sera...I can't change his mind.'

'Why does he do it, Bliss? What made him who he is?'

'Well you're the big psychic. Why don't you _figure it out_?'

'There's no such thing as psychics.'

'Ah yes...of course.'

'Will you please tell me about Timothy?' Patrick pleaded, leaning forward and clenching his fist on the table.

'In exchange for what?'

'Exchange?'

Bliss raised her eyebrows and gave a curt nod.

'I have _nothing _to exchange with you,' Patrick snarled.

'Then I do not speak.'

'Don't you think I've had enough taken away from me!'

Bliss simply stared back, her face unchanging, emotionless.

Patrick's eyebrow's knitted together, and he looked into his lap, swallowing back tears painfully.

'What do you want?'

'I want you...to _promise_...that you will show my son, everything he did to you if you catch him.'

'What?'

'If you catch him, I want him to know pleasure. I want him to know exactly what he did to you.'

Patrick searched the room around him, as if something might reach out and help him.

'You know?' Patrick jabbed his finger at Bliss, 'You're just as disturbed as your son.'

He snapped up from his seat and threw the door open, heading for anywhere but that room.

* * *

Lisbon picked up the stainless steel kettle and tipped it, pouring the boiling water into the floral patterned mug. She tugged the teabag tag up and down and swirled in the milk before chucking the teabag in the sink and blowing gently on the steaming mug. She leant back on the side and took a swig, revelling in the warmth that flooded her throat and filled her stomach. She shut her eyes and let her head fall back, her dark bangs rolling over her shoulders.

'Agent Lisbon,' Minelli strode into the kitchen and looked searchingly at Lisbon.

Lisbon's head shot up and her eyes opened. 'Sir?'

'You want to explain to me where you were yesterday? And why?'

'I'm sorry, sir. I had...family issues.'

'And you couldn't ring this in because?'

'I don't believe I was in a fit state to call.'

Minelli narrowed his eyes, his head cocking slightly.

'My brother was killed.' Lisbon replied, the words coming seemingly so naturally to her mouth now. It was like they were almost losing meaning.

Minelli stuttered slightly, embarrassed at his behaviour. 'I'm sorry, Lisbon...I really am.'

'Don't worry about it,' Lisbon replied taking a long swig of tea.

'How are you doing?'

'I'm...alright. Better than yesterday.'

'Good...well, not good, but...'

'Yeah.'

'I take it Jane was with you then?'

'Yeah...he was.'

Minelli nodded. 'He was alright? Not being an ass?'

Lisbon laughed shortly. 'He surprised me. He was great.'

Minelli nodded again. 'Well...you sure you're alright being at work?'

'Yeah, best thing to do, keep my mind working.'

'Ok...well, you can talk to me if you need anything.'

Lisbon gave one short nod and the corner or her mouth twitched with a smile.

As soon as Minelli left, Lisbon pushed off of the side and carried her tea to her office, rubbing the back of her neck with her palm. Nudging the door open, she paused.

'Jane?'

Lisbon looked down at Patrick, who sat on the couch, his hands clasped, staring into his lap.

He looked up at her, his eyes rimmed with tears.

'Hey...what's wrong?'

Lisbon moved fully into her office, shutting the door behind her.

Patrick shook his head softly.

Resting her tea onto her desk, Lisbon manoeuvred around Patrick and took a seat next to him. She placed her elbows on her thighs and clasped her hands, searching for an answer with her eyes.

'Come on...you can tell me, Jane.'

Patrick didn't want to admit his weakness in the face of Red John. Well, Red John's mother in this case. She was playing with him, and he didn't like it. He didn't like having his emotions been thrown around like a ragdoll when it came to his family. Red John. He felt weaker than usual. And he couldn't explain it.

Without warning, Patrick threw his arms around Lisbon and tugged her in. He buried his face in her shoulder, feeling the initial tenseness leak out of Lisbon's muscles as she relaxed into the hug.

'Hey...hey...what's wrong?' Lisbon repeated, her eyebrows creasing together. Rarely did Patrick give her hugs...she squeezed him gently, rubbing soothing circles into his back, stroking up and down.

The only reply she received was a squeeze, Patrick's fingers gripping at her jacket.

Lisbon rested her cheek against Patrick's head, holding him until he was ready to reveal what was bringing tears to his eyes.

* * *

Van Pelt turned from her computer to the ringing phone and picked up the receiver, holding it to her ear.

'CBI?' she answered down the line, 'Right...ok...we'll be there soon as we can.'

She dropped the phone back down and stood from her desk.

'Cho?' she asked the only person in the bull pen.

'Yeah?' he looked up from his computer.

'Looks like we've found our getaway vehicle. Wanna come?'

Cho nodded and gathered up his jacket.

In passing towards the elevator, Cho looked through the glass wall into Lisbon's office. He paused momentarily, his eyebrows twitching together for just a second, before he followed Van Pelt into the elevator.

'Jane and Lisbon were hugging on the couch,' he said bluntly as the doors were closing.

* * *

'An officer called it in about a half hour ago,' the sheriff supplied to the two CBI agents, 'The vehicle matches the description of the Red John case. There's just one problem.'

The three looked towards the burnt wreckage of a Ford Mustang.

'So Forensics can't lift any prints, or anything else for that matter. It was an efficient job. They used accelerant. Turpentine.'

'Ok...' Van Pelt surveyed the blackened, trashed car.

'But there is one thing we know.'

'What's that?' Cho asked.

'This vehicle also matches the description of a car involved in a hit and run this morning.'

**A/N: For any true Mentalist fanatics who realise that Patrick didn't actually say any of the things in that flashback bit, I used the deleted scenes on my DVD. :D**  
**And please leave reviewsies people! No forgetsies. :P**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thank you SO much for all the reviews last chapter. MUCH LOVE! Hope y'all enjoy this chapter!**

Chapter 13

Patrick sat, staring into space upon Lisbon's office couch, with Lisbon's hand slipped inside his. After a few moments, he snapped out of his trance-like state and looked around at the dainty woman sat beside him.

'I'm sorry.'

'For what?'

'What I said to you at the hospital.'

'Wait...that isn't what you're upset about is it?'

'No...but I need to say it.'

Lisbon nodded slowly.

'I didn't mean to be so blunt and stupid as I was.'

'Well, you don't love me, do you?' Lisbon smiled slightly, looking at their intertwined hands, 'So it wasn't as if you should have said anything else.'

Patrick simply stared at her.

After a few moments, looking into Patrick's eyes, Lisbon's face was suddenly straight as a ruler. 'Wait...'

Patrick remained silent, switching his view to his lap.

'What...why didn't...' Lisbon wasn't sure what to say. She was completely lost for words. A lump was forming in her throat.

'You love me?'

'Maybe...' he murmured indecipherably.

'What?'

Patrick's heart was pummelling in his chest, threatening to leap out and run away. By doing this...he was _actually _moving on from his family. He was admitting that he could actually be happy with someone new. It was scary as hell...what he was doing right now. And maybe he should have thought out his replies a little better, because he had no idea what to say now. The brilliant charmer had no idea what to say to the woman he loved. He felt like a school boy, blushing madly in the school yard, stood in front of the girl he had always had a crush on.

'I think I love you, Teresa.'

Lisbon swallowed hard. Her breathing was speeding a mile a minute. Or maybe a mile a second would be a more fitting description.

'You...love me?'

'I think so...'

Patrick looked up at her, his piercing green eyes penetrating hers; searching for something he wasn't sure what. He slowly brought his hand to her cheek, causing Lisbon to swallow hard.

He couldn't remember how long ago it had been when he had last done this. As he stared into Lisbon's eyes, it was like he had forgotten how to do it, and was having his first kiss again. He tried to level out his breathing, but he couldn't seem to stop each breath coming out raggedy. He leant forward gradually, so very achingly slowly. Butterflies rammed the walls of his stomach, fighting to be free. The lump forming in his throat was almost choking him as they came within millimetres of each other.

Lisbon's hurried breath washed over his face in warm waves. Her eyes were hooded as Patrick drew closer. She now longed for the contact that would surely come. She drew in a sharp breath as Patrick's soft lips brushed gently over hers. Her eyelids fluttered closed. She pressed her lips more firmly onto his. The pace wasn't fast, but it didn't need to be. Lisbon's hands travelled to Patrick's neck, resting tenderly either side, tugging him in gently. She realised how much this meant for Patrick. To be moving on from his family, his wife, was a huge step. And she appreciated that. And she was honoured that she obviously meant enough to him to be the one that he would move on to.

Lisbon pulled away gently, looking carefully into Patrick's eyes.

'I think I love you too...' she murmured, completely forgetting every ounce of work composure that she should have. Not getting romantically involved with colleagues and all that...straight out the window.

'You sure you're ready to move on?' she asked, just to check he wasn't going to regret it later on.

Patrick looked down at his hand for a moment, at the band of gold that bound him to his wife. He shakily brought his thumb and index finger to trap it and pull it off. He took Lisbon's hand in his own and turned it over, palm up, placing the ring square in the centre. Closing her fingers round it, he brought his gaze back to Lisbon.

'I can't wear it forever.'

Lisbon looked slightly shocked as she looked down at her enclosed fist.

'Have it. Know that you're the one I want now.'

She looked speechlessly up at Patrick, nodding shakily.

Patrick kissed the corner of her mouth softly.

Smiling carefully, he pulled himself off of the couch and left the office, new fire filling his heart. With a strong stride he made his way back to the interrogation room. He pushed the door open without hesitation.

'You know what?' he told Bliss, who turned to look at him, 'I don't care if you don't help us, because we're gonna catch Timothy without you. We're gonna lock him up to rot in a cell for the rest of his life, and I'll do my best to get you for obstruction as well. So there. You pitiful, _snake_.' Patrick finished.

Bliss' eyebrows creased together.

Patrick turned to leave, but paused, twirling round again and marching meaningfully back in. Reaching across the table, he tweaked Bliss on the nose with a satisfied nod, causing her to flinch back with a fiery, burning glare. He made his triumphant exit and slammed the door behind him.

Returning the Lisbon's office, he plonked himself down on the couch again. He saw that she was still staring at his ring, nestled carefully the centre of her palm.

'I just had to sort something out...' he told her, 'You alright?'

She nodded, seemingly still speechless.

Bringing his hand to her cheek, he kissed her forehead feather light.

'What about work?' she asked him, her brows crumpling together slightly.

'What about work?'

'Um...we're not s'posed to have relationships with colleagues?' she told him, looking apprehensive.

'Meh. Rules,' he dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand.

Lisbon still looked uncertain.

'Well, if you're that bothered about it,' he looked into her big green orbs, 'You can think of it as a friendship...with benefits.'

A smile tugged at the corner of Lisbon's mouth.

'Ok,' she murmured, liking Patrick's proposition, 'But why are you suddenly all happy and ok about it though?' she asked, noting the change in behaviour since he'd re-entered the room.

'I wasn't all happy and ok with it?'

'No. You were like a mouse before you left the room,' Lisbon smiled, 'You were nervous.'

'And?' Patrick answered bluntly.

'Don't worry.'

Patrick narrowed his eyes at her, wondering what she was getting at, but the only reply he got was her lips pressing on his.

* * *

Rigsby approached Lisbon's office with a case file tucked underneath his arm, licking his fingers free of the grease from the portion of chips he'd devoured while working. His hand landed on the door and he almost pushed down...until he saw through the crack in the blinds. He shifted himself to gain a better view and his eyes widened. His hand recoiled from the handle. He could feel himself blushing as he watched his boss and his colleague, their lips grazing over each other's.

He never thought he'd see the day when Lisbon would break the rules. Or, indeed, the day when the two concerned people would be kissing each other. His eyebrows raised and he back away, scratching the back of his neck. He guessed telling Lisbon about the important breakthrough he'd made, tracing the call that Bliss had made before they burst through the door, would have to wait.

* * *

Cho and Van Pelt watched the forensics team order the burnt wreckage of the Red John car to be towed from its place on the bank. They would have to wait for the vehicle to finish being processed before they could do much more. They would have to go back to the CBI to see if Rigsby had found anything else out. They lingered just behind the crime scene tape until the car had been loaded up onto the truck and began to disappear towards the PD.

Cho looked over at Van Pelt as the wind whipped her long red hair loose of its once neat ponytail. She nodded towards the SUV, trying and failing to bring her hair back under control. Just as the younger agent clambered into the driving seat, her phone started ringing noisily, the tinny speakers causing pain to human ears. Unclipping it from her belt and shuffling into the seat properly at the same time, she flipped the phone open and held it up to her ear.

'Rigsby? ...ok...thanks...bye.'

Cho looked expectantly at Van Pelt once his seat belt was securely clipped in.

'Rigsby traced the call that Red John's mom made before we caught her. Found a mobile.'

Cho nodded. 'Where did it trace to?'

'A gas station near the Matthews' house.'

Cho nodded again. 'Let's go then.'

Van Pelt keyed the ignition and pushed her foot down on the accelerator steadily, pulling away from the now empty scene.

* * *

Half an hour later, Patrick stepped outside Lisbon's office, quietly shutting the door behind him. (This time wasn't _all_ spent on kissing Lisbon, you understand). He looked downwards, checking the tell-tale tan line that encompassed his ring finger. It felt strange, not having his wedding ring on there anymore, but at the same time, it felt so liberating...

The corner of his mouth twitched with a smile. He briefly looked over his shoulder, the smile widening. Rubbing the pale band of skin on his finger with his other thumb and index finger, he made his way towards his own couch with a spring in his step.

Patrick barely noticed when Rigsby gave him a look as he happily landed on the soft brown leather and nestled his head onto the armrest.

'Uh...Jane?'

Patrick sighed happily, closing his eyes and folding his arms across his chest. 'Yes, my dear Rigsby?'

Rigsby held a breath, unaware of how to proceed. He was beginning to doubt his good sense in starting this conversation.

'You rang?' Patrick tried again.

'Uh...where were you? Just now?' He knew full well where Patrick had been, but he wanted to know how Patrick would answer.

'Talking with Lisbon. Why?'

'Oh, no reason. Just...wondering.'

Patrick's eyes opened and narrowed. He sat up again, looking at Rigsby.

'Why the pause?'

'What pause?' Rigsby asked innocently.

'The pause between 'just' and 'wondering'.'

'There was a pause?'

'Yes...'

'Oh.'

'Rigsby. What's wrong with you?'

Rigsby looked around himself. 'There's something wrong with me?'

'Yes. You're very...tense.' Patrick narrowed his eyes at him.

'Am I?'

'Yes.'

'Oh...'

'Tell me.'

'Tell you what?'

'Tell me what's wrong with you.'

'Nothing's wrong with me.'

Patrick stared expectantly at the agent.

Rigsby took a deep breath in. 'OkIsawyouandLisbonkissing!' He blurted.

'I'm sorry? Could you repeat that? But this time, with actual words.'

Rigsby grimaced. 'I _saw_ _you_.'

'You...saw me?'

Rigsby nodded stiffly.

'Well I'm not exactly hidi-' Patrick suddenly realised what Rigsby meant. 'You..._saw _me?'

Rigsby nodded again.

'Uh...' Patrick started.

'Seriously, man...what happened?' Rigsby asked nervously.

'Uh...that's none of your business,' Patrick answered, slowly descending back onto the couch.

Rigsby peered over his desk. '...Where's your ring?'

'And..._neither_ is that.'

'But you know you can't have relationships inside the team, right?'

'Yes.'

'So what...'

'Shush, Rigsby.' Patrick closed his eyes and descended into as believable a sleep as possible.

'Jane!' Rigsby yelled under his breath, glancing sideways as Minelli walked past the bull pen.

But it was clear that Patrick wasn't going to reply. He sank into his seat again with a huff, but he was far too distracted now to do anything work related.

* * *

Cho and Van Pelt dropped out of the SUV onto the sun-hardened ground outside the gas station. They searched left and right for anything that would give them answers. A few dusty old motors were parked beside the shop, and a single shiny silver jeep rested beside a fuel pump. It seemed quiet enough for tumbleweed to skip across the scene before them, yet none ever did. And no evidence immediately came to pass.

Cho began to stride across the station towards the shop, and Van Pelt soon followed behind, trying to shield her eyes from the dust and grit flying upwards from the cracked ground. A strong smell of petrol filled their nostrils as they passed the faded, old fuel pumps. The driver of the jeep exited the shop, a small bell ringing as the door opened. Cho caught the door and slid inside, away from the flying dust. He held it open for Van Pelt to follow, but she never did catch it. He looked around, searching round the pumps and checking by the SUV. Eventually his eyes came to rest on the red head agent, who was stood staring at the ground, her hand resting on her gun holster. Cho's eyes narrowed and he briefly glanced at the shop keep before stepping outside again and walking to Van Pelt's side.

'What is it?'

'Look...' she pointed at the ground before her, and Cho finally noticed it.

He stared, wordlessly, at the Red John smiley that stained the dirt covered ground in rapidly drying petrol.

'There's no other sign of Red John, is there?' Van Pelt asked worriedly, her eyebrows knitting together.

Cho shook his head, knowing exactly what she meant.

'Then why did he leave this here?' Van Pelt looked round at Cho.

* * *

'Hey, boss,' Rigsby greeted, walking into Lisbon's office and shutting the door behind him.

'Rigsby.'

Lisbon looked up from her desk watched him suspiciously.

'What is it?'

'Uh...you and Jane.'

'What about me and Jane?' Lisbon asked innocently.

'I...um..._saw _you. In here.' Rigsby pointed at the floor beneath his feet.

'It has been known for me and Jane to share the same space at a given time...what's your point?'

'No. I _saw _you! You know..._kissing_?' Rigsby hushed the last word, his cheeks burning slightly.

'Kissing?' Lisbon laughed, 'Me and Jane? Kissing?'

'Yeah...'

'Why would I do that?'

'I don't know...but you were doing it!'

Lisbon narrowed her eyes at Rigsby.

'What?'

Rigsby laughed nervously, 'You _were_ kissing Jane. Why?'

'I wasn't kissing Jane.'

'Yes you were,' Rigsby narrowed his eyes.

'No...I wasn't.'

'Yes you were!'

'No I wasn't.'

'Yes... Oh, never mind...' Rigsby gave up, putting his hands on his hips and swiftly leaving the office.

* * *

Van Pelt and Cho stood over the rapidly disintegrating smiley, as if something might just magically appear that would provide all the answers. And when it seemed that nothing would, Van Pelt suddenly spotted something on top of the faded fuel pump from which the smiley had obviously been drawn.

'Look...' she pointed to a piece of paper weighted underneath a small rock. Cho approached behind her as she pulled the stained scrap out and began to unfold it.

'Don't look round...' Van Pelt read the scrawled message. 'What does tha-'

Cho suddenly fell like a dead weight behind her with a soft grunt of pain.

Van Pelt swirled on the spot, her ponytail flying around after her and swishing across her neck, right into the sights of a dull carbon steel gun barrel.

'Don't. Move.'

**A/N: RAWR. whatever could happen to our poor Van Pelt? Reviewsies pwease! :D**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Muahahaha. Next chapter. Hopes you all enjoy. And thank you SO much for all the reviews I got last chapter. Seemed to get loads! You're all epic people! Much love.**

Chapter 14

Van Pelt chanced a quick glance down at the lifeless form of Cho at her feet before meeting gazes with the gun barrel again.

'Timothy...'

The man that was Red John was completely different to who they had originally seen. He obviously _had _been wearing a disguise. But now, he was a pale Caucasian with thinning brown hair, an ugly scar marring the skin just above his brow. Dark bags hung under his eyes from sleepless nights, maybe, or late night plotting. His murky blue irises swam with anger, and his lip quivered slightly as he held the gun in Van Pelt's face. He seemed a little uncomfortable with the semi-automatic pistol that nestled in his palm, probably because he was used to handling a knife. He redid his grip on the gun.

'Shut up. Another word and I'll shoot,' he growled at her.

Van Pelt clenched her jaw and swallowed.

'I-'

'SHUT UP!' Tim yelled, shoving the carbon steel muzzle into the agent's forehead.

Van Pelt sucked in a sharp breath and shut her eyes tight.

'_Now_...take your gun out, with your_ left_ hand.'

Van Pelt reached across and took the glock slowly from its holster, trying to remain as calm as possible so as not to elevate Tim's agitation.

'Give it,' he ordered, holding out his other hand for her gun.

The young agent hesitated, but handed over the weapon. It would be better to cooperate for now. She hoped.

Snatching it from her, Tim stuffed the gun in his jean waist band without taking his gaze from the agent.

'If I'm going down, I'm not going down without a fight,' he hissed, 'Now move.'

He flicked his gun in the direction of the back of the shop and placed the muzzle into the small of her back.

'MOVE.'

Van Pelt did as Tim said and started moving towards the shop. The shop keep didn't seem to have noticed anything, which could be seen as good or bad. If he'd seen and come charging out, chances were he'd have ended up dead. But at the same time, not knowing, meant he couldn't call for help. The wind picked up as they passed out of sight of the shop windows, the cold air biting through Van Pelt's thin blouse, despite the heat of the sun. She took a deep breath, psyching herself up mentally, and in a flash, she brought her elbow up and swung round, planting it in Tim's stomach. But the outcome she'd intended didn't quite happen. He recovered quickly, and soon, Van Pelt was falling to the ground with a blow to the head from the body of the gun.

'Ugh,' Tim muttered, rubbing his stomach slightly. He took a deep breath in before tucking his gun into the back of his pants along with the other and taking Van Pelt's wrists. Tugging her along the dusty ground, the agent's once black trousers started to turn grey and worn. Her ear began to bleed from where he'd hit the earring, but that was the least of his worries as he began to pile the agent into the boot of his car and tag her hands.

* * *

Cho began to stir steadily. His head throbbed, his pulse beating out a samba inside his skull. He groaned softly, turning his head into the ground slightly. When he started breathing in dirt, his head shot up and his hand scrambled for his gun. Pushing up from the ground, he scoured the surroundings for his colleague. He held his gun out before him, spinning on the spot, willing Van Pelt's red hair to appear somewhere. His heart pummelled the inside of his chest. Giving up hope of finding the answers outside, he started approaching the shop to ask if the guy in there if he'd seen anything, but he was stopped dead by the dusty black Chrysler that shot out from behind.

Cho started running for it, knowing that Van Pelt would be in there. He raised his gun mid stride and started firing off rounds at the car tyres, careful to aim below the boot just in case Van Pelt was in there and not the back seat. Eventually, a bullet hit, causing a loud bang from the back right hand tyre, and sending the car swerving on the baked tarmac. He swore as the car continued to speed away despite the deflating tyre. As soon as the magazine was spent, he made a run for the SUV and jumped in as fast as he could, throwing the emptied glock onto the passenger seat, keying the ignition and speeding after the Chrysler, hoping that Van Pelt was alright. He clenched his eyes tight as his head throbbed harder, a low groan coming from his lips. The road seemed darker, tinted blue when he reopened his eyelids, and his vision was full of dark spots. He blinked several times, trying to clear it.

'Come on!' he muttered under his breath.

* * *

Lisbon watched Rigsby's desk like a hawk, waiting for the moment when he would disappear into the break room for one of his hourly snacks. If she had remembered, and calculated correctly, that moment would be in approximately two minutes. She didn't want to do what she was going to do, with him in the bull pen. Tapping her pen on the table in a speedy rhythm, pretty much in sync with her heart, she turned fractionally this way and that on her swivel chair. She should have known that it wouldn't be safe giving into her thing that she had for Jane. What were the chances that someone would see? She had thought that the blinds were covering every inch of her office that allowed for the outside to see in...but obviously not. She felt jumpy as the moment approached, hoping that Rigsby would still leave, despite the embarrassment that he obviously felt because of what he'd seen happening in Lisbon's office.

Lisbon's luck was in play as Rigsby pulled himself up off of his chair. Even when he was only a fraction above the seat, Lisbon was making a move for the door. She speed walked over to Patrick's couch, skilfully manoeuvring around Rigsby's line of vision. Arriving at the couch side, she snatched Patrick's wrist and yanked with a surprising amount of strength for her petite frame. Patrick yelped as he landed on the floor with a thump.

'What the...'

'_Come on!_' Lisbon hissed, dragging him as he tried to pick himself up of the floor.

'Did you miss me that much?' Patrick smirked as he brought himself to his feet and followed behind Lisbon, his wrist still tightly clamped in her hand.

Lisbon rolled her eyes and shoved him into her office, hurriedly closing the door behind her. She made sure the blinds were as tight shut as they would go.

'Jane! Rigsby _saw us_!'

Patrick rolled his wrist carefully, the pain subsiding slightly. 'Yes...that was a slight hiccup.'

'A _slight_ hiccup?' Lisbon hushed her frantic voice.

'He won't tell anyone.'

'How do you know?'

Patrick couldn't help a small smirk appearing on his lips as he watched Lisbon wave her hands around frantically and turn this way and that.

'How can you be ok with this?' Lisbon cried, putting her hand to her forehead.

'I never said I was ok with it.'

'But you're acting all cool as a cucumber as if you don't care!'

Patrick grimaced, 'I don't like cucumber...'

Lisbon rolled her eyes dramatically.

'What are we gonna do?' she asked frustratedly.

'Nothing.'

'What do you mean, nothing?'

'I mean nothing. Unless you want to drag him into a dark room, shine a light in his face and get him to swear to secrecy.'

'You're not helping.'

Patrick grinned. 'And you're not helping yourself by getting all flustered my dear.' He approached his flustered...girlfriend? Hmm...that sounded weird. But anyway. He approached Lisbon and took her gently by the shoulders.

'Calm down.'

Lisbon looked into his eyes, looking a little frightened if Patrick was honest.

'Rigsby wouldn't tell on us. And neither would the rest of the team.'

'What do you mean, the rest of the team?'

'Well, he'll probably end up telling _them_.'

Patrick observed Lisbon's still unchanging expression. 'You really think you can't trust them?'

'I can trust them.'

'What is it then?'

'Well...I didn't exactly want everyone to know already...I only just found out.'

Patrick smiled softly at her, placing his hands on her shoulders. 'It'll be fine.' He landed a quick kiss on her lips. 'Don't worry.'

Lisbon nodded weakly.

* * *

Van Pelt struggled in the small, dark, confined space. She could feel the plastic tag tearing at the skin on her wrists, and the sticky glue attaching the tape to her lips. She tried to call out. But all that would come was muffled noises. She looked around for any identifiable features in her space, but she couldn't see anything. She could tell she was in the back of a car though. The engine noises were enough evidence of that, and the odd bump in the journey. Potholes. She suddenly remembered Cho. She hoped that he was ok, and following her right now, trying to find her. She didn't like the thought that it was Red John who was sat in the front seat of the car, driving her to god knows where, to do god knows what to her. She felt panicky and scared, and just a little claustrophobic. She suddenly felt like one of the girls from an early case. Red hair. Silver tape pulling her lips together with gummy residue...

Suddenly, the car's reasonably smooth journey turned horribly bumpy, and it was coming from just behind her. A flat tyre? Van Pelt hoped so. That would mean that Cho would be able to catch up quicker.

Her undersized world suddenly jerked to the right roughly, causing her to hit the left side of the boot with a heavy thump. The car seemed to be bounding along, the journey now uneven and rugged. Van Pelt moaned softly as her body was thrown up and down inside the confined space, feeling bruises begin to sprout over her sides. And then everything stopped. A loud crash rang in her ears, and the car jerked to a halt. She felt her head smack into something solid inside the boot. Her vision now even blacker than it had been before, was shuttered off by her drifting eyelids. Her head throbbed violently, but she fought to stay conscious...

* * *

Cho hurriedly pulled up at the side of the road, watching the Chrysler smoke, its front bumper wrapped around a telegraph pole. He leapt out of the door and ran for the vehicle.

He wanted to check that Van Pelt was alright, but first, he had to make sure that Timothy was safely handcuffed and delivered into the SUV. Handcuffed, at least. He slowly approached the driver's door with his reloaded gun held before him. He took a deep breath. Quickly manoeuvring around into sight of the window, he shoved his gun through the smashed window, pausing for a few moments to check that the slumped figure wouldn't move before pressing his fingers against the side of Tim's neck. He felt a cold chill creep up his spine as the steady, but weakened pulse throbbed against his fingertips.

Pushing his gun into his trouser waist band, Cho pulled against the door until the crushed metal gave way with a heavy creak. The small fragments of window chinked inside of the door shell as it was flung open. Quickly checking for injuries, and finding none except the slight cut and blood dribble on Tim's forehead, Cho threaded his arms underneath Tim's, and dragged him out onto the hardened, dusty ground. He rolled him over onto his front and hastily clasped his police issue handcuffs around the unconscious man's wrists, closing them with a satisfying whirring click. He felt a smirk steal across his face as he fully realised who he'd just handcuffed.

Cho laced his arms underneath Tim's again and hauled him to the back of the car, as a precaution in case he woke up. He checked for guns, and finding none, quickly moved his attention onto the boot of the Chrysler. Shoving his thumb down on the keyhole and pressing it in, the lid sprung open. But before he could do anything else, a reasonably heeled shoe came into contact with his chest, knocking him back onto the ground. He coughed heavily.

Van Pelt swore to herself as she realised she'd just lashed out at Cho. That kick was supposed to have been for Tim. She grimaced as she watched Cho appear again, slowly, rubbing the shoe impression on his white shirt. Van Pelt gave him an apologetic look, her eyes having to say it all until the duct tape was removed. Cho smirked upon seeing Van Pelt's sorry expression. He quickly removed the silver tape, at which point, Van Pelt started blabbering.

'Oh my god, I'm _so _sorry Cho! I swear that was meant for Tim. I'm _really _sorry...'

Cho held his hand up. 'Don't worry.' He quickly hauled her out of the small space and stood her on her feet, fetching a pocket knife from his pocket and snapping the plastic tag.

Van Pelt brought her hands back in front of her and rubbed her red raw wrists. 'Sorry...'

'Really. Or I'll put the tape back over your mouth.'

Van Pelt smiled embarrassedly at Cho, her cheeks tinged pink.

'Are you alright?' he asked, taking her wrists gently in his hands to examine them.

'Yeah...I'll be fine. What about you?'

'I'm alright. Now. I believe we have a serial killer to bring in.'

Van Pelt smiled. 'Yes we do.'

* * *

Patrick cupped his hands under the cool running water pouring from the steel faucet. Sending it splashing over his face, he breathed in deep and observed himself in the mirror. His hands clamped the sides of the basin. He sniffed. He looked down at his ring finger, the tan line that told of what used to be there. There was something that now suddenly felt wrong, like a sick feeling developing in his stomach. Maybe he moved too fast. Not that he regretted telling Lisbon about how he felt about her...but something had started eating away at him. He almost felt guilty. It had all started when he'd placed that kiss on Lisbon's lips and told her it was going to be fine. And then he realised why he now felt like this, pale as a sheet, his head hung over the sink in the men's room.

_Placing a kiss on Ava's lips, I smiled reassuringly at her._

'_Don't worry.' I told her._

_I then moved down to peck my daughter on the cheek._

'_Goodbye, Daddy! I love you!'_

'_Love you too, sweety.'_

_I embraced her in a quick hug and ruffled her curly blonde locks before standing again in front of Ava. She still looked unconvinced. She wished me to stop what I was doing, before I got somebody hurt. But I knew that wouldn't happen. I was a professional. I knew what I was doing. I placed another kiss on her sweet lips and took up my briefcase from the floor._

'_It'll be fine. Don't worry. I'll see you later.'_

_Ava nodded uncertainly. I could see the disappointment in her eyes. But the problem was, I knew I was addicted to my work, as I left that morning. It would be about as hard to quit as trying to come off heavy drugs..._

It'll be fine. Don't worry. That was exactly what he had said to Lisbon, without even realising it. And those were the words that were choking him as he leant over the sink, cool droplets of water falling from his face onto the white porcelain. He stared at his hand for so long that the surroundings began to blacken out and disappear from view. He could feel tears begin to mingle with the tap water resting on his skin. He couldn't turn back now. He had to continue telling himself that moving forward was the best thing to do. He couldn't dwell on his past forever, no matter how much he longed to go back to that morning and just stay at home with his wife and daughter, so that he wouldn't cause their deaths and so that his wife would be happy.

Lisbon was surely his future? And that was what he had to concentrate on. He took a long deep breath and pulled himself up, swiping his hand across his face. Grabbing a few too many paper towels from the dispenser, he wiped his face off, staring himself in the mirror before exiting the bathroom.

* * *

Rigsby observed Patrick returning from the direction of the men's room. His brows crumpled together as he saw the consultant's face. His skin was pale as snow, and his hair looked a little more ruffled than usual, his eyes looked darker.

'Hey, you alright man?'

Patrick seemed to pull himself from a trance and looked fleetingly in Rigsby's direction, but not meeting gazes with him, serving him a quick nod.

'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

Patrick murmured inaudibly, carefully sitting on the couch. He seemed to consider for a moment before leaning back. He sat catatonic, staring into the distance.

'What?'

'Doesn't matter.'

'You know...you can tell me right?' Rigsby said nervously.

Patrick gave him another absentminded nod.

'So?'

'So, what?'

'You gonna tell me?'

'No.'

An uncomfortable silence descended over the room. Rigsby's chair squeaked loudly as he shifted slightly.

'Uh...you want a cup of tea?' Rigsby asked, providing himself with an excuse to leave the room.

'No...'

'Ok.' Rigsby left promptly, moving in on the tea and the refrigerator.

* * *

Van Pelt's gaze flickered into the back of the car every now and then, at the silent figure of Timothy Matthews, aka, Red John. He had become conscious again not long after having put him in the back seat, and he seemed to refuse to talk. Van Pelt was nervous that he would try and escape at some point, despite the handcuffs that locked his hands together. After all, he was a dangerous, cunning man, and it felt like he was being a bit too quiet. She switched her gaze back to the roads only a few blocks away now from the CBI headquarters. She had butterflies in her stomach. She could barely believe they'd caught him. After so many years. They'd finally caught Red John. She shifted in her seat slightly, watching Timothy's blank eyes survey the surroundings through the rear view.

A few minutes later, Cho was bringing the SUV to a halt inside the CBI parking lot, applying the handbrake and pulling the keys from the ignition. Both agents stepped out of the vehicle and moved around to the passenger door which would open upon Timothy.

Cho grasped the handle and swiftly pulled, causing the shiny black door to swing open. He grabbed Tim's arm and pulled him out onto the solid concrete, Van Pelt quickly taking hold of the other arm and shutting the door at the same time.

'Recognise this place?' Cho said.

**A/N: Tehe. What did you think? I think this story must be drawing to a close soon... Don't know when though :P**  
**And, just wondering, for anybody who's seen the Season 2 Mentalist Finale. What did you think of the way Red John was presented physically? Is it just me, or doesn't it do him justice? Seriously. Plastic coat and halloween mask?**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I believe this to be the penultimate chapter. So I hope you all enjoy. I'll get onto writing the next and final chapter soon. Thank you muchly to Alydia Rackham, for all your lovely reviews! Much appreciated.**

Chapter 15

Timothy Matthews sat catatonic in his chair inside interrogation. The soft lighting poured over him. His expression lay unchanged. He didn't really know what was going through his mind. Apart from the fact that he'd been caught. After so long. So long feeling like he was untouchable. On top of the world. Yet now, here he sat, in the poorly lit room, dull, scratched handcuffs pulling his arms behind him. He'd finally failed. He'd made the mistake of getting too full of himself and thinking he could walk into the CBI and just walk straight out of the front door again and not get caught.

He closed his eyelids slowly, the sting that filled his eyes barely weakened by the complete darkness. His wrists twitched inside the metal handcuffs that had now warmed up to his skin temperature. He took a deep breath and blew out slowly. For a fleeting moment, he even considered breaking out of his cuffs with the paperclip that he always kept in his pocket for some reason, but he knew he would be caught. There were too many people around. His head fell softly to sit in front of his chest. He swallowed back, his throat as dry as a bone, and ran his tongue across his cracked lips. His head throbbed quietly from behind the graze that his car had served on him. He wondered when the agents would be in to question him.

* * *

'Lisbon?' Cho entered the Boss' office without even pausing to knock.

Lisbon dragged her head off of the desk and looked up at Cho expectantly. 'Yes?'

'Red John...'

'What about him?'

'He's sat in interrogation.' Cho replied, letting a rare smile slip across his face.

Lisbon was suddenly as awake as if she'd taken uppers.

'What?'

'We caught him,' Cho confirmed.

Lisbon jumped out of her chair, almost knocking it over backwards as she went. Her heart pummelled in her chest.

'How?' she asked, having to stop herself from gaping.

'He was still at the gas station that we traced the call to.'

'You traced a call?' Lisbon narrowed her eyes, not remembering the point where she had been told this.

'Yeah...didn't Rigsby tell you?' Cho asked.

'No. He didn't.' But she had a pretty good idea why. Rigsby was probably going to come and tell her before he saw her and Jane kissing.

'Well...we traced a call that Bliss made before we caught her, and we ended up at a gas station. He attempted to kidnap Van Pelt after knocking me out.'

'Oh God, are you both alright?' Lisbon asked worriedly.

'Yeah. But anyway, I blew the back tire and he swerved off the road a bit further down. Wrapped his car round a telegraph pole.'

When Cho finished, Lisbon realised how little she'd kept up to date with this case, despite its importance. She'd just been so...busy...tired...occupied with a certain golden haired consultant.

'I _think _you might have to fill me in a bit on the case, Cho. I've missed quite a lot.'

'No problem.'

Lisbon sat down again. She knew it would be better to go and talk to Red John once she knew all the facts about the case. She invited Cho to sit down opposite her as she downed the rest of her now cold coffee.

* * *

Van Pelt stood in the break room, a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. Her lips pouted slightly as she blew away the heat. Her wrists were still sore and reddened. She could almost still feel the bumpiness of the ride in the boot that she had to endure. Her eyes swam a little from the cut she had sustained when her head hit. She took a sip of her coffee and sighed heavily.

Van Pelt jumped slightly when Rigsby entered the room.

'Oh, hey, Grace.' Rigsby smiled slightly, obviously not noticing the cut and ligature marks at first, because otherwise he'd have been well and truly distracted from the fridge and fussing over her. Like typical Rigsby.

'Hey,' she greeted in return.

'You alright?' Rigsby asked, his head stuck in the fridge.

'Yeah...' She turned and placed her mug down behind her.

Rigsby pulled out with his prize of yoghurt drink and peeled off the top, running his finger round the edge and licking off the yoghurt. As soon as he turned round, he froze.

'What...happened?' he asked, his arm slowly dropping to his side. He placed the drink on the side and hurried over to her, taking her wrists in his hands carefully.

'It's nothing. Don't worry,' Van Pelt tried to dismiss the issue.

'It doesn't look like nothing,' Rigsby stated, running his thumb slowly, gently, over the bruised skin.

'I just got a bit tied down.'

Rigsby's brows creased together, expecting more of an explanation.

'Tim tried to kidnap me, alright? Tied me up a little. The car ended up crashing and I got the cut.'

'Are you alright?'

'Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry.'

Rigsby looked Van Pelt in her pretty hazel eyes and felt his heart pace a little. His Van Pelt had been hurt, and he hated it. He felt like he should have been there to protect her.

He pulled her into his arms carefully, not wanting to hurt her more.

'Grace...' he murmured, squeezing her a little tighter.

Van Pelt wrapped her arms around Rigsby's waist, grimacing slightly as her achy limbs moved.

* * *

Lisbon, now fully informed, and feeling a little better now having had her mind taken off the relationship issue with Jane, walked beside Cho towards the interrogation rooms. She felt nervously excited, for Red John was now caught, sat inside the room she was moving towards, but she hid it underneath her professional demeanour. She thought of telling Jane about it, but he wasn't visible in the immediate area, and things would only kick off if he knew. And she knew all too well the kind of things that he'd said to her about the day Red John was captured.

She pocketed her twitching hands and swished her long hair from her face. Bringing her feet to stand perfectly squared outside of the room Cho had told her contained Red John, she took a deep breath. Placing her hand over the stainless steel handle, she applied pressure and stepped in, pushing the door to the wall. Her breath caught in her throat momentarily as she surveyed the over turned tables and chairs. But no Timothy.

'...what the hell happened in here Cho?' she stuttered, pointing at the mess and looking questioningly back at her just as baffled colleague.

'I...' Beneath his apparently cool appearance, Cho's heart was pounding against his ribs. Not that long ago, Timothy had been sat in that chair right there...that now _overturned_ chair.

'You didn't tell Jane did you?' Lisbon grimaced, the words ringing in her head as if she had only just heard them.

'_When I catch Red John I'm gonna cut him up and I'm gonna watch him die slowly. Like he did with my wife and child.'_

'No. Nobody did.' Cho told her, hoping against hopes that his other colleagues would have the common sense notto tell Jane either.

'Okay...' Lisbon looked around the room for a second longer before storming out. 'Get hold of security now. I want to know what happened to him. Check the cameras for the main entrance and this floor. I'm going to find Jane.'

In the pit of her stomach, she could feel the dread dwelling. After all the sensitivity and care Patrick had shown her not that long ago, she hoped he hadn't found out that Red John was here.

But no matter how hard she hoped, she couldn't think up another reasonable explanation for the state of the room and the missing criminal. Her heart pounded in her ears like a drum, and the beat was only getting faster. She searched the corridors, mercilessly scouring every room for her colleague but to no avail. She was almost out of ideas until she thought of the men's room. Screw the fact that it was the _men's _room. These were desperate times and circumstances. Lisbon broke into a run, her throat aching with the lump that was forming as she anticipated the worst. Pulling up at the door, her heart felt like it had broken in two as she heard Patrick's cracked, sobbing voice echo from inside.

'_You took them away from me... my Ava, my Jessie... I hate you... I hate you more than any person ever could hate another...'_

Lisbon slowly pushed the door open, her head pounding. Patrick was stood there, holding Tim against the wall by the neck, a tight grip crushing down on the man's Adam's apple and constricting his windpipe. Tim's bloodied head was centred in a smashed mirror, and a shattered sink and broken faucet were pouring water across the floor which lapped at the toes of Lisbon's shoes. Patrick's trousers were soaked at the hem, and his waist coat hung open around his torso, his shirt sleeves rolled up and dampened. His hair lay flattened and soggy across his forehead. His eyebrow was bleeding, the crimson stream tracing around his eye, narrowly missing going in.

'You took their _beautiful _lives away from me. And now I'm going to take _yours_,' Patrick hissed into Timothy's ear. Lisbon's eyes widened as she caught sight of the glinting blade pressing to the soft skin of Timothy's throat, forcing out tiny beads of scarlet blood.

'Jane...' she started, almost choking over her words, 'Put the knife down.'

Patrick's head flashed round to see Lisbon in the doorway, her hand sat restlessly on the butt of her gun inside its holster. He turned his attention back to the man under his grip.

'What?' he laughed dryly, 'You gonna shoot me?'

'I don't want to, Jane.'

'So you would if it came to it?'

'Well..._no_,' she faltered. She would never be able to bring herself to do serious harm to him, 'Just please, put the knife down.'

'I can't do that Lisbon,' he murmured, barely concealing the quivering edge to his voice.

The lump in Lisbon's throat grew almost to suffocate her as she watched a single tear trace a moist path down Patrick's cheek.

'Please...Patrick. Don't do this. You're better than this.'

She watched Patrick intently, her heart reaching out to him as she saw the fire that usually held sway in his emerald eyes doused and flattened.

'But he _killed _them, Lisbon. He took them away from me...'

'I know...I know. But surely, you know more than anybody that being sorry is far worse than being dead?'

'But he _won't_ be sorry...' Patrick hissed, another tear following suit of the first as he pressed the shining blade closer to Tim's neck, causing droplets of blood to dribble down his throat and under his dampened polo shirt.

'Yes he will. I promise,' Lisbon edged forward, her hand slowly moving off of her gun, 'I promise, Patrick.'

'How can you know?'

'Trust me.'

Patrick's gaze flickered over his shoulder, but didn't meet Lisbon's.

'I _need _to do this...' he said, his voice barely over a whisper.

'No...you don't. Just please, let him go.'

'I _CAN'T_!' Patrick yelled suddenly, forcing the knife down harder. 'Stop trying to change my mind with your soft voice and your calm!'

Lisbon flinched slightly at the sudden rise in volume.

'Patrick, _please_!' she cried desperately, 'Think of what you told me earlier! You were moving on, Patrick. That means you can move on from him. You don't need to kill him!'

'But...'

'Killing him won't make a difference. It won't bring them back! It won't solve the pain! Just, _please_. Give me the knife...' Lisbon pleaded, holding out her hand.

Patrick flicked a quick glance back at Lisbon's approaching figure, her small hand offered out to accept the weapon that was clenched in his sweaty palm. His hand tightened around Tim's neck fractionally as he considered the options.

'Lisbon...?'

'I'm here, what is it?'

'What if the pain never goes?'

Lisbon's heart broke as she watched his eyes overspill with glittering tears.

'...Then I'll be here to help you,' Lisbon told him confidently.

Patrick seemed to think on her words for a moment before his muscles slowly began to relax, letting air down Tim's throat and removing the shimmering blade from the shallow cut.

'That's it...give me the knife,' Lisbon coaxed gently.

Patrick released Tim, letting him slide down to the floor in an exhausted heap. He held the knife down by his side, watching the light glint on the blood stained blade, a tiny bead dripping and diffusing into the water pooling on the floor. Patrick switched the blade between hands and passed it slowly to Lisbon, before he was tempted to pick up where he left off. Tim looked up at him, his face blank until a second later. A huge grin split over his face.

'I knew you couldn't do it...' he laughed, coughing slightly as he recovered the oxygen to his lungs.

Patrick's face was full of pain. He lashed out a hard toe into Tim's stomach, winding him. Lisbon quickly rushed up to Patrick and took his arm, guiding him away.

She put Patrick in the corner of the wrecked bathroom while she returned to Tim, grabbing his wrists and handcuffing them around the nearest pipe. She had to take care of Patrick. Cho would come and collect Tim.

Suddenly, Tim cocked his head and looked at Lisbon more carefully.

'Have we met?' he asked, his eyebrows creasing.

'No,' Lisbon replied, concentrating on the cuffs.

'Strange...I recognise you from some-' his face suddenly filled with realisation, 'I hit you this morning...'

Lisbon looked at Tim questioningly.

'Well, obviously not you...a brother maybe...' a smirk lit up his lips as he watched Lisbon's face fall flat, 'Well isn't that interesting...'

Lisbon stood up stiffly. It couldn't have been. It couldn't have been him. That wasn't possible...

It took every ounce of her professionalism to take her away from Tim.

She approached Patrick again, looking a little lost. Slowly taking his arm again, she nodded towards the door. She could feel Patrick try to launch at Tim, but she kept her grip.

'Jane,' she murmured, seeing him look at Tim with evidence of vicious intentions written all over his expression, 'Come on. He's not worth it...'

Lisbon pulled him out of the bathroom, ignoring the slight edge of resistance that he was giving her. Tugging him along behind her, she took him to her couch, sitting him down and pulling up a chair in front of him, but not sitting herself.

'Stay,' she told him quietly, fishing her phone from her pocket and flipping it open. Dialling in Cho's number, she lifted it to her ear, telling the agent on the other end of the line to go to the men's room to get Tim. She snapped the phone shut, not waiting for a reply, and seated herself.

She ignored the painful buzzing that filled her ears, the black clouds slowly running through her vision.

'What...were you thinking Jane?' she started, trying to avoid the emotions that were almost drowning her. She was staring at her shaky hands, her head bowed.

'Lisbon. I'm so sorry...' But he wasn't apologising for what he'd done.

'About what?' She looked him straight in the face.

Patrick's brows crumpled slightly.

'I told you not to do harm to him, Jane. Why did you go against me?' she continued.

'I didn't harm him.'

'You tried to.'

'You appeared before I could do anything.'

This time, he started before Lisbon could interrupt.

'I'm sorry about your brother.'

'We're talking about you.'

'No we're not. I don't want to talk about me.'

Lisbon looked into his eyes. 'Well I don't want to talk about me, Jane.'

'Let's talk about fluffy clouds and rainbows then.'

Lisbon picked herself from her seat and left the office without smiling. Patrick sighed heavily, about to follow her, but before he could, she was back, with a dampened towel and ice pack in hand. She returned to sit before Patrick and started wiping the blood from his face with the towel, causing him to hiss slightly when she pressed on the cut.

'I thought you had moved on, Jane. I thought you had changed.'

'What?'

'The ring, Jane.'

'I moved on in my personal life. That didn't mean I thought any different of Red John.'

Lisbon pressed harder on the cut.

'OW! What was that for!'

'For being stupid.'

Patrick narrowed his eyes at Lisbon.

'You said you love me, Jane. What were you thinking back there? You think jail would be a good way to express your feelings for me?'

'No...'

'Well, please explain then. Because I don't understand.'

Patrick breathed out heavily, closing one eye against the excess pain that Lisbon had inflicted.

'I'm sorry...'

'For what?' Lisbon asked, raising her eyebrows and waiting for a better reply.

Patrick narrowed his eyes. 'I'm sorry, _Lisbon_, for being careless and stupid.'

'That's more like it.'

Patrick huffed. 'Why are you blocking out the fact that Red John killed your brother?'

'It doesn't matter who killed my brother. He's gone. And there's nothing I can do about it. So drop it.'

Lisbon finished up cleaning off the blood and put the ice pack a little more tenderly over the wound than she had been with cleaning it. Patrick fell back into the couch, taking hold of the ice pack himself. The freezing cold seemed to numb his brain a little and he blinked widely, trying to clear the feeling.

'Never do anything like that again, Jane.'

**A/N: D:  
I don't know why, but I felt really nervous publishing this chapter...  
Well, can't believe this story's almost finished. I'll have to start a new one up soon! Reviewsies for Mesies. :P Love y'allllll. **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Ok, so I LIED. This isn't the final chapter. Yeah, never take note of what I say if it's to do with planning. Because my planning always fails. XD**  
**And THANK YOU SO MUCH all of my reviewers who have been truly epic and got me to 100 reviews. Well, 104... THANK YHOOOO! It's quite exciting really. Love y'all. I offer you all pancakes and cookies. :D**  
**Enjoy the new chapter...**

Chapter 16

Teresa Lisbon had refused to get all broken up and teary about Red John's involvement with her brother's death. She had dragged herself down one dark hole, she wasn't about to let herself into another one. She already felt weakened because of how she had behaved in front of, and to Patrick when she first heard the news, and she didn't want to go down that path again. And so when they received a new case two days later, Lisbon was relieved. She was just about to leave the office, her badge clipped on and her glock securely put away inside it's holster, when Patrick came tottering in, not knocking as usual.

'Lisbon.' He said bluntly.

'Yes, Jane?'

'Um...'

'What? Spit it out, we've got a new case and I need to get there pronto.'

Patrick's brows creased, about to ask his question, but then seemed to think of something else.

'Why do you still call me Jane?'

Lisbon looked up at him. 'We're at work.'

'Even when we're out of work. I mean...are we still...?'

'It's just force of habit.'

'You didn't answer the second part.'

'...Look, this can wait. I've got a crime scene to attend.'

'No it can't. The _crime scene _can wait. The universe won't implode if you're a little late.'

'The sheriff will though...'

'And?'

Lisbon breathed out heavily, leaning on her desk with one hand.

'Ok. I'm sorry I haven't seemed to have taken much notice of you recently...I'm just a bit distracted...would dinner tonight make you happy?'

Patrick smiled. 'Yes it would.'

'And I'll make sure I call you _Patrick_.'

Patrick's smile widened.

'Now can we go?' Lisbon asked impatiently.

Patrick stood back, holding the door open and offered for Lisbon to walk out with a grand gesture of the hand.

* * *

'An officer called it in about half an hour ago. Female victim. Homicide. The engine was still running when they found her. Coroner says she's been dead around two hours.'

Lisbon walked beside the sheriff, Patrick trailing closely behind. They walked underneath the black and yellow crime scene tape threaded around the area.

Before them, on a quiet Sacramento road, was a Jaguar XJ convertible, its roof down, revealing a young dark haired woman slouched over, her head resting on the steering wheel. Give the scene a fleeting glance, and it would have just looked like a crash, but on closer inspection, one could see a bullet hole perfectly central in the back of her neck. Her hair was tangled around the wound, matted with congealed blood.

'Do we know who she is?' Lisbon asked, taking in the scene carefully at the same time.

'No. We waited for you lot to arrive before we moved anything. There might be an ID in the purse.'

'Ok...' Lisbon pulled on a pair of latex gloves and started looking inside the vehicle.

'Seems she was shot from the back seat,' the sheriff added.

'Well, how did she not see the attacker then? Before she got in the car. It's a convertible,' Patrick stated. 'I mean, you'd have to be blind to not see someone crouching in the back of your car when the roof's down.'

The sheriff looked blankly at him and shrugged.

Patrick turned his attention back to the convertible, noting a receipt on the floor of the car from a gas station. 7:25am. Only half an hour before the murder. She obviously came from the gas station, so the attacker couldn't have been in the car before she left the house. Or she'd have been killed already. He would have said that she was shot from outside, which would make more sense, but her head was positioned straight on, and the blood spatter was directly in front of her, on the inside of the windscreen.

He watched Lisbon pick up the scattered remnants of the victim's purse and search through for an ID, turning up nothing.

He noted how the victim had smooth, soft skin. Probably attended a spa regularly.

'No ID, but there's a membership card for Dalton's Health Spa,' Lisbon announced, 'Kelly Lutsch.'

A smile flickered across Patrick's face.

He noted the victim's clothes; a smooth white blouse, skimpy grey waistcoat and designer jeans. She was a middle class girl, but she did well for herself, and liked to treat herself on the odd occasion. The small bag of chocolate just visible inside the car door was a bit more proof of that.

The car was probably a present from a well off father, or maybe just another treat. She looked like the kind of person who, if she wanted something, she would work hard to get it.

Patrick suddenly looked up and started to walk away, back to the SUV.

'Where are you going?' Lisbon asked, the purse held before her.

'I'm bored.'

'You can't leave.'

'Well I _could_, if I really wanted to...but no, I think I'll take a nap.'

Lisbon rolled her eyes, 'Suit yourself.'

'Don't worry, I will...'

The sheriff eyed Patrick suspiciously as the blonde haired consultant threw the crime scene tape above his head and clambered back into the dark SUV, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Patrick could feel someone's eyes burning into his skull.

'What?' he murmured, his eyes still closed.

'What was that about?'

'What was what about?'

'I think I'll take a nap?'

'What? I wanted a nap.' Patrick opened one eye to see Lisbon looking at him suspiciously.

'Yeah right. At 10:30 in the morning, in the middle of surveying a crime scene, which makes no real sense. It's the perfect puzzle. Why are you sat in here? '

Patrick sat up, ruffling his hair loosely with one hand.

'I don't know. I don't feel like looking at crime scenes.'

'Well, if I stopped my job whenever I didn't feel like it, we wouldn't get very many crimes solved.'

Patrick simply stared over at Lisbon for a moment, seeming to weigh something up.

'I don't know what I'm doing.'

Truth be told, Patrick didn't really know what he was doing at all since Red John had been caught. He knew he couldn't leave the job, because Lisbon was there, and he truly had nothing else to do, but at the same time, he didn't feel like he could actually benefit anymore.

'This is about Red John, isn't it?'

'No.'

'You're lying.'

'No I'm not.'

'If you want a relationship, Jane, I would appreciate it if you'd actually tell me the truth.'

'So would I.'

Lisbon paused, narrowing her eyes. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

Patrick raised his eyebrows and shrugged loosely, looking out the window.

'Oh, for goodness sake Jane. Are you still hung up on the fact that I won't go all weepy and angry over Red John?'

Patrick looked back at her again. 'Well, if you'd actually tell me why you're not, then maybe I'd be able to drop it.'

'I told you. Who killed my brother doesn't matt-'

'No, the _real _reason Lisbon.'

'It's no big deal, Jane. Why do you even care?'

'Because I _love _you? And I care about whether you're happy or not?'

Lisbon sighed, admitting defeat. 'Look, the only reason I'm trying to ignore it, is because I don't want to end up like I did when I first found out he was killed, alright? I didn't recognise myself, and I don't want to get myself into that hole again.'

Patrick nodded solemnly. 'Ok.'

'Yes. So now you can tell me what's wrong with _you_.'

Patrick considered a moment. 'Yes. It is Red John,' he confessed, 'I don't know... He's in jail, but nothing feels any different.'

Lisbon nodded. 'Sorry...' she murmured.

Patrick shrugged. 'I don't know what was supposed to happen when we got him...'

'Well...we've got him. And that's the point, yeah?'

Patrick smiled softly. 'Yeah.'

'And what about...us? Don't I mean something different now?' Lisbon knew it wasn't all about her, but she thought that at least a small part should feel different now that they were falling into a relationship.

'You?' Patrick murmured with a brief smile. 'You can join me in the backseat.'

'What?'

'You heard,' Patrick smiled, patting the seat beside him.

'Why?'

'Because it would make me happy.'

'You know. For a moment there I thought we were actually having a serious conversation.'

'Really? Hmm...'

Lisbon rolled her eyes.

'Come on,' Patrick encouraged, motioning towards the seat again.

'Someone will see.'

'Nahh...seat. Now.'

Lisbon considered for a moment before she sucked in a breath and gave in, clambering out of the driver's seat and manoeuvring round to the passenger door. She opened it on a grinning Patrick and pulled herself up, plonking herself on the seat he had offered.

'What am I doing back here?' she questioned.

'I don't know. What _are _you doing back here?'

Lisbon eyed Patrick suspiciously, turning to get out again, if not for Patrick's arms threading around her waist and pulling her back.

'Jane!' she cried.

Patrick turned in his seat and pulled his leg up, resting Lisbon against himself and clasping his hands around her waist, trapping her. He rested his head on her shoulder.

'Wha-'

'Shush. I want to tell you something.'

Lisbon fell silent, feeling Patrick's warm breath spilling over her neck.

'You mean _so _much more to me now. And I think you're who's keeping me sane,' he murmured in her ear, 'Reasonably,' he added, a smirk flitting across his face. 'Thank you, Lisbon. And thank you for stopping me from hurting Red John...'

Lisbon's heart pounded in her chest, awaiting the moment when someone would walk past the SUV and see them. But despite this, she couldn't seem to stop her head falling softly to the side as Patrick administered soft kisses to the base of her neck.

'Patrick...' she whined, trying to break through the sweet drowsiness that was falling over her. She could hear herself, telling herself to wriggle out of Patrick's embrace and get out of the car again, but she couldn't get her limbs to do the necessary work. She could feel his lips moving up her neck and towards her jaw.

'Jane!' his name came out quiet as a mouse as the breath caught in her throat, 'Stop it...' she whispered. But even as she muttered the words to stop, she felt her head turn towards him. She cursed herself for it. But as Patrick's kisses continued along her jaw line, she almost forgot to breathe. It had been a long time since she'd felt someone kiss her. And it felt like a drug. Her muscles were so weak and achy that she couldn't move. She groaned softly as Patrick's lips hovered at the corner of her mouth, hating herself for falling for his sweet kisses. At work. Patrick pressed another to the soft skin, ready to take her lips...if she would just bring her head round a little more...

Lisbon's eyes fluttered closed and she took a quiet breath. She felt Patrick's nose nuzzle at her cheek, and she couldn't keep herself away from him any longer. Her head fell fully and Patrick took her lips. Carefully, steadily, without words, telling her what she now meant to him.

'You idi-' Lisbon tried to tell herself, but she managed to cut her own thoughts off with a soft moan.

Patrick's arms tightened fractionally around Lisbon's waist. He knew he had to control himself from going too far. After all, they were in the back of the SUV. At work. But Lisbon's lips tasted so good...

So when he finally brought himself to tug away from her, he almost immediately wanted to bring the contact back...but Lisbon turned her head away. She cleared her throat softly, running her fingers delicately over Patrick's hands as they lay around her small waist.

'Um...later? Ok?'

Patrick nodded slowly, pressing his lips against the corner of her jaw before she pulled out of his arms.

Once out of the door, Lisbon straightened out her blouse and cleared her throat again. She could feel her cheeks burn slightly as an officer walked past her. She pulled the driver's door open and pushed herself up into the leathery black seat, thankful to be out of the view of others when her cheeks felt like they were on fire. Composing herself for a couple more seconds before extracting the car keys from her jacket, which lay across the seat next to her, she keyed the ignition and brought the engine roaring to life. She jumped slightly as Patrick's fingers landed lightly on her shoulder blade.

* * *

Sam Bosco was checked out of the General Hospital at midday. He breathed in the warm air outside the entrance. After a few days in hospital, he was all too ready to be outside those bleached and scrubbed walls again, where the fresh air and the good food resided. His eyes resting on Mandy, stood by their car, a smile slipped across Bosco's face and he made his way forward, a small limp left in his leg. The doctors said it would fix itself soon enough. He pulled his wife into his arms and held her tight.

'Hey,' he murmured.

'Hey,' Mandy replied, holding Bosco back to look at him, 'Honestly...the mess you get yourself into.' A smile flickered across her lips.

Bosco grinned sheepishly. 'We caught a serial killer though.'

Mandy nodded. 'Come on. Let's get you home.'

'Sounds like an idea...y'know, my leg _really_ hurts...'

'Ok, I'll let you off the diet for today. Today only.'

Bosco grinned with approval.

* * *

Patrick stood before the full length mirror in his almost bare bedroom that evening, pulling on a clean white shirt and black slacks, accompanied by a black jacket. The suit that now adorned his body had not done so for years. He couldn't even remember the last time he had brought it out of his closet. But it still fitted perfectly. He loosened two top buttons on his shirt and did up the jacket. He examined the suit for a few moments before breathing out heavily and finding his keys, phone and wallet on the mattress behind him, where he'd thrown them. He safely stowed them in his jacket pockets.

Patrick made his way for the door, but paused in step, spinning on his heel and meeting gazes with the fading smiley that loomed over the mattress. Before, the simple drawing had seemed to thicken the air in the room, almost chokingly so, but now, it was nothing. It didn't matter anymore.

A shadowy smile flitted across Patrick's face as he turned out of the room and shut the door quietly behind him.

* * *

Lisbon stood in her ensuite bathroom, fashioning a knee length emerald satin dress. After applying a little foundation and a touch of concealer, she stood back and studied her appearance. Her dark hair rested gently on her shoulders, curled and bouncy. The dress was simple halter neck that fitted perfectly around her. Once she was sure she was satisfied, Lisbon turned and walked back into the bedroom, collecting a pair of small heels from underneath the bed.

She saw the broken mirror momentarily. She needed a new one...

Collecting everything she needed, Lisbon went downstairs and stopped by the door. She hopped on the spot as she put her shoes on. She took a deep breath. It was her first date in a _long _time, with a man who was on _his _first date in a long time. Well, at least they could sympathise with each other. A small smile flickered across her lips as she finished her shoes and pulled a soft cardigan over her shoulders. Flinging the door open, she stepped out and felt the cool evening air cover her. She surveyed the car park and saw Patrick's little blue Citroen DS 21 waiting for her. Patrick stood ready by the driver's door with a smile on his face as he saw Lisbon step out of the apartment. The last traces of sunlight bathed them both in a soft orange glow as they met in the car park.

'Hey,' Lisbon greeted with a smile, 'I like the suit. It looks good.'

Patrick smiled. 'You don't scrub up bad either.'

He narrowly ducked a playful swipe as he skipped round to the passenger door and opened it wide for her.

Lisbon clambered in, careful to pull her dress away from the door as it shut. Soon, she was accompanied by Patrick.

'So where are we going? Considering I was the one who suggested dinner...'

Patrick looked over at her and tapped his nose.

**A/N: Ok, so that was a really randomly done chapter, but I realised I'd kinda forgotten about Bosco, so I stuck him again ^_^**  
**Reviewsies for me? Much love x**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: So very sorry for the long wait. One: Been doing GCSEs, Two: Been totally unmotivated. Sorryyy. But I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for the reviews, again.**

Chapter 17

Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt were just clearing up their desks before getting ready to leave. They had hung behind for a bit longer to investigate a few more aspects of the case, and Jane and Lisbon had left early.

'Where'd you reckon they went?' Rigsby asked the room, gripping a breadstick between his teeth as he shifted a pile of paper.

'What do you mean?' Van Pelt looked up.

'Well. They're obviously not going where they say they're going.'

'Why not?'

Rigsby grinned, the breadstick beginning to break between his teeth. He remembered that the two people in front of him had no idea what had happened between Jane and Lisbon. He slowly removed the crumbling breadstick from his mouth and crunched the remnants left on his tongue as he sat down on his chair. He leant back and crossed his legs. A smirk crossed his lips.

'What?' Van Pelt asked suspiciously, Cho now paying full attention as well.

'What are you willing to pay for this information?' Rigsby asked slyly.

'What information?' Cho asked, looking expectantly at his colleague.

Rigsby raised his eyebrows and took a bite of his breadstick.

Van Pelt's eyebrows creased together.

Cho's eyebrows...did nothing.

'Seriously, man, what is it?' Cho asked again.

'Just a little...secret about...Jane and Lisbon.'

Cho exchanged glances with Van Pelt. They both pulled up a chair to Rigsby's desk.

'Tell.' they said in unison.

* * *

Patrick and Lisbon followed a waiter to a small, two seater table by a window in The Honey Tree. It was one of the best restaurants in town, and always needed booking at least two weeks in advance, and so when Lisbon had walked through the front door, you could understand why her face was full of confusion and wonderment. The table they now stood before had a view over the beach below, the young moon casting silvery light over the small breakers on the shore. A tea light candle was centred in the middle of the table, which was lit by the waiter before he departed.

'Patrick?' Lisbon whispered.

'Yes, Teresa?' Patrick pulled out one of the chairs for her and offered the seat.

'How the hell did you get us in _here_?'

Lisbon sat down, carefully pulling her dress beneath her legs as she sat.

Patrick grinned as he pushed Lisbon in and sauntered around to his own chair.

'That. Is for me to know, and you not to find out,' he replied mischievously.

Lisbon narrowed her eyes with a smirk.

'I didn't hypnotise anyone,' Patrick added.

'I didn't think you had,' Lisbon smiled.

They both looked up as a different waiter wandered up to their table, a couple of menus nestled in his grip and a fresh white dishcloth draped over his arm. He wore a slick, fitted black suit, with a delicate scarlet rose threaded through the lapel of his jacket. He smiled down at them.

'Hi there,' he greeted kindly, 'My name's Robbie. I'll be your waiter for this evening.'

'Hello,' Lisbon replied.

Patrick nodded his acknowledgement.

'Here are the menus,' Robbie carefully placed the leather bound menus on the table with a practiced technique of getting them straight on.

'What would you two like to drink?'

Patrick looked over at Lisbon expectantly. She mulled it over for a few seconds before asking for a glass of the house red. Patrick chose the same, making the order into a bottle.

'Ok...and I'll be back in a few minutes for your orders.'

He smiled warmly and nodded before walking away and leaving Patrick and Lisbon to decide on their food.

* * *

Van Pelt and Cho looked dumbstruck as Rigsby leaked the news onto them. Van Pelt's mouth opened and closed like a fish, her brain unable to construct letters, let alone words.

'Whoa,' Cho stated.

'Yeah, man! I _knew _there was something going on between them,' Rigsby grinned widely and chomped the rest of the breadstick.

'I never thought anything would actually happen though,' Cho replied.

'What do you reckon they'll do about it?' Van Pelt spoke up, 'I mean, they know the rules; no relationships with colleagues.'

The other two agents shrugged, but Rigsby still seemed to be grinning, pleased with what he'd found out about his boss and colleague.

'But...' Van Pelt rethought the situation, 'This does mean that Jane's moved on, doesn't it? So at the same time...it's good.'

'Yeah,' Cho agreed, 'I reckon he felt he could move on once Red John was caught.'

'Are we going to say anything?'

'Lisbon already knows I saw,' Rigsby pointed out.

'How?'

'I said something.'

* * *

After ordering, Robbie the waiter, as Patrick had fondly named him, disappeared off to the kitchen with his shopping list, leaving Patrick and Lisbon alone at the table. Patrick rested his arms on the table and simply looked at Lisbon. He sighed softly.

'What?' Lisbon asked, a nervous smile crossing her lips.

'...Nothing.'

Lisbon felt her cheeks burn slightly as a faint smile drew the corners of Patrick's mouth up. She was almost completely absorbed in his twinkling green eyes. Quickly clearing her throat, she looked outside briefly before casting a glance back at Patrick. His smile widened, but it wasn't smug or arrogant. Instead, it was soft, gentle, loving. She'd never seen that smile before. Lisbon could tell it wasn't something he usually gave out. Her cheeks turned rosy pink.

'So, um...' she started.

'So...'

'How are you...getting on, you know, after Red John?'

Patrick clasped his hands on the table and shuffled in his seat. 'Fine, I think.'

Lisbon nodded carefully. 'So...you're sure about this?'

'What?'

'..._Us_.'

Patrick cocked his head slightly. 'Of course I am. I would begin to think that I was feeling easier about this than you.'

Lisbon shrugged.

'What is it?'

'I don't know. I guess I just feel a little nervous.'

'Why?'

'I don't _know_.'

'Is it about work?'

Lisbon shrugged again as she brought her forearms to rest across the table. 'Maybe.'

'It'll be fine. Ok? Trust me, Teresa.'

Lisbon looked up at him and smiled, recollecting a memory. 'You know, I think I always trusted you just a little bit more after that trust fall you made me do.'

'Really?' Patrick smiled.

'Yeah...I don't know why.'

'I told you it worked.'

'Yes...'

'So, do you trust me now?'

Lisbon thought about it for a moment, and then nodded.

'Good.'

They smiled at each other.

'It'll be fine...I mean, they're not going to fire us or anything. We're too likeable.'

Lisbon laughed and shook her head softly.

Patrick sat back and observed her beautiful features contort with a beautiful smile. He was so happy he could finally bring himself to move on. It felt so much better. He leant forward and took a sip of his wine.

'Mmm, that's good,' he looked into the glass as he swished the contents and nodded his approval.

Lisbon took a sip of her own glass and agreed. 'Lovely.'

'So what are we having my dear?' Patrick asked, turning to the menu for the first time since they'd been placed almost ceremoniously on the pure white tablecloth.

'Good question,' Lisbon replied, delicately lifting the cover on her own menu.

* * *

Rigsby and Van Pelt were walking towards the entrance to the CBI headquarters, ready to just go home and collapse on a couch or bed. Whichever was closest.

'So...it's quite something they're pulling off...' Rigsby murmured, looking nervously at Van Pelt.

'Huh?' Van Pelt looked up at him.

'You know, Jane and Lisbon.'

'Oh...right...yeah. It is.'

'Do you reckon they can keep it a secret?'

'Well, it's not exactly a secret anymore. We know about it.'

'Minelli doesn't.'

'Hmm. I don't know. But I think they were meant for each other, you know? I'm happy for them.'

'Oh, yeah, me too,' Rigsby scratched the back of his neck and coughed slightly, 'Um...'

'What?' Van Pelt looked at him questioningly, her eyebrows creasing.

As Rigsby tried to formulate a plan in his mind, he knew he had to face his fears eventually. He stopped and grabbed Van Pelt's wrist softly, causing her to come to a halt. She searched his eyes looking for answers, and what she saw was dangerous. She could see lust, and love, and desperation. She looked down nervously at Rigsby's hand encircling her wrist.

'...Rigsby?'

'I can't keep away from you anymore, Grace,' Rigsby told her firmly.

'What?' Van Pelt could feel a lump forming in her throat. She could tell where this was leading, and she had hoped it wouldn't get to this point...

'Look...I loved you, from the moment I set eyes on you, and I've been too much of a wuss to tell you. But I'm telling you now,' Rigsby let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding.

Van Pelt closed her eyes tight, almost wishing he hadn't just said that.

'...What's wrong?' Rigsby asked nervously, shifting his weight onto his other foot.

'I...Wayne?' she looked up at him.

'Yes?'

'Why?'

'Why what?'

'Why did you have to say that?'

'What do you mean?'

'We _can't_...'

'But what about Jane and Lisbon? They've done it. And I _love _you.'

Van Pelt scrunched her eyes shut again. She made a soft whiny noise.

'Can't we give it a try?' Rigsby pressed, his heart throbbing against his ribs.

Van Pelt opened her eyes again and looked into his, desperately wanting to say yes, but at the same time, knowing that she should say no.

'I...I'll think about it, ok?' she managed, letting out a deep breath.

The ghost of a smile flickered across Rigsby's face as he nodded. 'Ok.'

* * *

Patrick cut off a small chunk of lamb and popped it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before nodding and showing his delight. 'That's good meat.'

Lisbon laughed softly as she took a bite of her own.

'Just as good as I remember...' Patrick murmured.

'You've been here before, then?'

'A long time ago, yes.'

Lisbon nodded, carefully chewing her food. Patrick studied her thoughtful expression.

'Why?'

'Oh...just wondering.'

Lisbon knew from the brief vacancy in Patrick's expression as he turned to look out the window that what she was thinking was true. This must have been the place where he had brought his wife on occasion. It was gorgeous, and she felt truly honoured to have been brought here as well. She smiled softly as she popped another piece of the lamb steak.

'Well, it's lovely, Patrick. I really wasn't expecting anything this upmarket.'

Patrick turned a smile on her. 'That's alright. You're worth it.'

Lisbon felt that small blush creeping back into her cheeks.

'So I trust now that we're in a relationship, there's going to be a bit more truth and openness around us?'

Patrick smiled, 'I guess so. What are you angling at?'

'Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't be so stubborn and hesitant telling me about things now that I'm your _girlfriend_,' Lisbon grinned.

'Fair enough,' Patrick took a sip of wine, 'I therefore propose a toast...' Lisbon smirked suspiciously as Patrick lifted his glass, 'To my un-stubbornness and...' he thought for moment, chewing his lip, 'ability to tell my _girlfriend _about my various devious plans.'

Lisbon raised her eyebrows and lifted her glass off the table.

'I'll toast, but let it be known I have strong doubts about your ability to follow through with such a proposal.'

Patrick gave an a hundred dollar smile. 'So do I, my dear. _So do I._'

Their sparkly glasses clinked in the soft moonlight as they exchanged smiles.

* * *

Once their plates were emptied thoroughly into their stomachs, Patrick and Teresa sighed happily and sat back in their seats. The moon now hung high in the sky, the beach now a twinkling show of light as the damp sand sat in the soft glow. The waves lapped gently at the pebbles at the top of the beach, and the sound of chinking stones and foamy breakers could be heard distantly from the restaurant.

'Well, thank you, Patrick. For everything.'

Patrick nodded modestly, paused for a moment and reached over the table, placing a kiss on her lips. He loved the way the gentle pink rose into her cheeks as he sat again. Smiling softly, he ran his thumb gently over her hand as his lay over it, encasing it.

'Ready to go?'

'Yeah,' Lisbon replied absently. She was obviously frustrated at the blush that would insistently flare up on her cheeks every time Patrick came near her.

Patrick waved at Robbie the waiter to bring them the bill.

'I'll take-'

'No you won't Lisbon.'

'I won't what?'

'Pay the bill. Don't be silly.'

'What if I want to?'

'Then I refuse to let you.'

Robbie was now stood at the table side, the bill presented on a small dish with a couple of delicately wrapped mints.

'I trust you enjoyed your meal?' he asked, a soft smile bringing the corners of his mouth up. He handed over the dish, allowing Patrick to see the receipt, and Lisbon to take her mint.

'We certainly did,' Patrick replied, fishing in his wallet for the necessary money, plus tip. Pushing a couple of twenty dollar bills into the dish, a throwing in a few extra dollars, he smiled warmly at Robbie. 'Thank you very much. Spectacular.'

Robbie nodded to both and smiled, before carrying the dish away with him.

Patrick stood and took Lisbon's hand as she came to his side before taking her from the steady noise of quiet conversation and chinking of cutlery, out into the fresh air of the evening.

Patrick took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill his lungs.

'So...'

'So,' Lisbon replied, looking up at him through her emerald eyes.

'I guess I better get you home,' Patrick smiled softly.

As they stood beside the Citroen in the customer car park, Patrick turned fully to Lisbon and pulled her towards him, his arms lacing around behind her. He looked into her eyes for a single moment, before arching his neck and leaning down to meet her lips. Another moment, and Patrick turned her, pushing her softly against the car, his hands travelling upwards to sit either side of her neck, feeling her strengthening pulse just about reach through her neck to his palms. Patrick felt his own pulse rampage in his veins. He might not have looked it as he held Lisbon against the car, but he was as nervous as anything. His tongue braved the edge of Lisbon's lip, his muscles quivering. Lisbon was just as surprised to feel Patrick going further as he was.

A second later, Patrick pulled away, resting his forehead gently against Lisbon's.

'Um...you could come back to mine...if you want?' Lisbon asked, shocking herself with the words pouring from her confused mouth.

Patrick simply looked into her eyes.

'Uh...maybe...'

'Just for a coffee.'

Patrick considered for a moment, considered what he was doing, and gently pressed his lips to hers once more before nodding.

'Ok.'

**A/N: Ok, so I can't really tell whether that was much good or not, but please do tell. And can I have some opinions on how you think I should end the story please? Just getting my wonderful readers involved! xxx I've also started up a collection of one shot/drabble thingies if you're interested ^_^**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Okiesss, so, final chapter peeps. Shocking. I'm not quite sure where all my usual reviewers toddled off to for the last chapter, but hey...COME BACK! she cries. :P Enjoy!**

Chapter 18

'Uh...the funeral...it's at the weekend. You'll come, right?'

Patrick cocked his head, looking slightly insulted. '...Why wouldn't I?'

'No, sorry, I didn't mean it like that.'

'Of course I'll be coming.' Patrick laid his hand atop of Lisbon's. She nodded a smiled softly. Patrick leaned across the small expanse of couch between them and placed a feather light kiss on the corner of her mouth. The corner of his mouth lifted in a gentle smile.

'Thank you for the dinner, Patrick.'

'You've thanked me several times Lisbon,' Patrick smiled.

'Well, it _was _more than I expected...' she paused, 'Or maybe I'm just a rubbish conversationalist.'

Patrick laughed softly. He looked up at her, that gorgeous, natural smile chiselled into his features.

Lisbon dropped her coffee mug onto the tea table before them and shifted across the couch, snuggling into Patrick's side and pulling his arm around her waist, letting her hand rest over his.

'Y'know, I think these past few weeks have been the most ridiculous of my whole life...' Lisbon murmured.

'You could be right there.'

'I'm exhausted.'

Patrick nodded softly in agreement. 'But don't fall asleep.'

'Why not?'

'Because I like talking.'

'Can't guarant-'

Patrick looked down at Lisbon as she descended into silence.

'Just kiddin' ya,' Lisbon murmured.

She ran her thumb gently over the back of Patrick's hand and almost lost herself in the warmth radiating from him. It made her drowsy.

'Did you like me before all this happened?'

'What do you mean?'

'Did you have feelings for me before?'

Patrick cocked his head slightly and thought. 'I...don't know. Maybe,' he replied slowly, 'Why?'

Lisbon shrugged against him, 'Just wondering.'

Patrick's eyebrows creased slightly. 'What about you?'

'I don't think I ever thought about it much... I mean, it wasn't a suitable feeling to have around you, knowing about your family.'

Patrick nodded. 'So, you did think about it?'

'I guess I did. Whenever you were happy...normal, I think I realised there was something there for you. But when it came back to Red John...your past, I realised it was just a fantasy. It wouldn't happen.'

'I think...that's how I felt too.'

'Really?' Lisbon asked, lifting her head to look into Patrick's eyes.

'Yeah...'

Lisbon's mouth twitched with a smile.

'But now it's happened.'

'So it has,' Patrick smiled.

'I'm glad you're happy.'

Patrick sighed softly. 'Me too.'

Lisbon felt her eyelids grow heavy as they continued to talk, Patrick's soft voice lulling her further and further towards a state of sleep. Everything about him made her feel safe. The warmth that snaked around her and pulled her in, the gentle voice that fell like honey from his lips, the feel of his arms encompassing her, making her feel like she was untouchable.

'Look,' she murmured drowsily, 'I might have to ask for permission to sleep in a minute...'

Patrick smiled softly. 'If you must.'

'Ok...' she started, snuggling into his chest a little further, 'Patrick Jane, may I please ask your permission to fall asleep?'

'I suppose, my dear.'

The room descended into silence as Lisbon automatically fell asleep on Patrick's say so. Patrick laughed quietly.

'Any chance you might be able to get up the stairs first though?'

Lisbon breathed in deeply and murmured a quiet reply, 'Do I have to?'

'Yes. I need to go.'

'Why?' Lisbon whispered sleepily.

Patrick thought. He didn't actually have a good reason for wanting to leave. Was it just part of his heart telling him that something wasn't right? Or was it just that he couldn't fully imagine ever leaving his old life behind? He closed his eyes gently, telling himself to stop being such a hypocrite and nestled his arms underneath Lisbon's loose body, gently lifting her up. He pressed his lips feather light to her forehead and carried her towards the stairs. He shivered slightly as her soft warmth leaked into him. He slowly approached the darkness at the top of the stairs, his whole body seeming to quake, but he didn't know why. His eyelids grew heavy, tired as he climbed, beginning to fall shut of their own accord.

Stop.

Patrick froze.

* * *

Rigsby watched Van Pelt smiled weakly back at him as she made to leave the CBI building, heading home. He hoped against hope that she would truly think about what he had said, what he had proposed to her. He truly did love her, and he couldn't hide it any longer. She was the only one he had ever truly thought about since she had walked through the door on that first day. He couldn't imagine himself with anyone else.

So as he watched her perfect form waltz out the door, his eyes couldn't look anywhere else, and he found himself breaking into a run after her. He threw open the doors and jogged towards her, catching her arm and pulling her round. Her wide eyes met his as his lips crashed onto hers. Van Pelt's initial shock faded, and she couldn't help the wave of desire that drowned her. Rigsby's arms snaked around her thin waist and pulled her closer against him, letting months of tension and desire flood out of him. He refused to let up as he took Van Pelt hostage in his embrace, trying to pull her even closer, show him how much she truly meant to him. He felt her hands trail up his chest and rest either side of his neck, and he knew how much she had wanted it as well. He smiled softly against her lips.

Eventually, they broke apart, their foreheads resting together. Rigsby smiled weakly again.

'I love you, Grace. Please say yes,' he murmured, pushing another kiss to Van Pelt's lips. Van Pelt breathed heavily, just staring downwards. Then she quickly, wordlessly took Rigsby's hand in hers and pulled him across the car park, towards her car. Her heart pummelled in her chest as she released the central locking system and pushed Rigsby towards the passenger seat, but she didn't doubt for a second what she wanted to happen. For that moment, she didn't care about the rules. She only cared about Wayne Rigsby, and how much she truly loved him. She was breathing heavily as she clambered into the driver's seat, and she smiled quickly across at Rigsby before keying the ignition and speeding away from the CBI headquarters.

* * *

All four chambers of his heart slammed to a stop, refusing to pump blood until they realised they had to beat to keep him alive.

His vision shook violently, blurring with tears as he watched the little girl stand silently on the top step. Her large blue eyes stared down at him, crystal tears lining them. Her delicate hands clutched at a small bear, its fur matted and worn. A white, frilled dress adorned her small frame. Her skin was deathly pale. Her head tilted gently. She blinked once. A single, lonesome tear tracked down her pale pink cheek.

'Daddy?' she whispered quietly.

Patrick's breath caught in his throat, almost choking him. Trying to breathe, his throat closed up, blocking his lungs. He almost dropped Lisbon as his muscles became weak and heavy. He barely heard her as she murmured something from her drowsy state. His eyes could only fix on the girl at the top of the stairs.

Every ounce of his control was needed to stop him from crumbling and tumbling down the stairs. The girl continued to stare at him.

'Daddy?' she repeated.

Patrick swayed gently, his eyes crowding with tears. He shut his eyes tight, the stinging feeling that drowned them, doubling, tripling, and tears squeezing out, trembling down his cheek. His face became pallid, a sick feeling taking command of his stomach.

'Patrick?' Lisbon's voice sounded slurred to his ears.

Lisbon stared up at him, 'What's wrong?' She grew worried as she saw the glistening tears falling in torrents down his pale cheeks. 'Patrick?' she said more earnestly.

She felt Patrick's arms bring her slowly down to the stairs, resting her feet carefully on the step before him, but never taking his gaze from the top step. She followed his gaze, but saw nothing. Looking back, she moved down to his step and placed her hand on his cheek, bringing his eyes round to look at her. His gaze reluctantly tore from the girl, and tearful eyes stared at Lisbon.

'What's the matter?'

Patrick turned back to the top step.

'Daddy? Mommy says thank you,' the little girl said.

'Wha...' Patrick trailed off, barely managing to form the words through the tears that had a chokehold on him, 'Why?'

'Mommy says thank you for starting again.'

Patrick's face was hot with the tears that poured over his cheeks, but he made no move to wipe them away.

'She's happy now. She's happy you're not hurting anymore, Daddy.'

She began to fade, a small smile crawling onto her face. 'I love you, Daddy.' And she was gone; in a wisp of smoke.

Patrick's chest compressed, choking out sobs.

'Patrick?' Lisbon asked quietly. She stepped up and stood in front of him, ducking to look into his eyes, 'Please tell me.'

Patrick didn't know what to do. Go up the stairs, go down the stairs, crumble to the ground...

'Jessie...' he whispered, quiet as a mouse, his voice lined with age old pain.

Lisbon's eyebrows creased.

Patrick's lips creased carefully into a small smile, despite his tears. His arms wrapped around Lisbon and tightened, his wet face buried in Lisbon's shoulder.

'They're happy...' he whispered.

Lisbon couldn't help her own eyes from tearing up as she felt Patrick's embrace, and his tears slowly tumbling onto her shoulder.

Eventually he looked up into her eyes and smiled again.

He nodded towards the top of the stairs and grasped her hand in his, leading her up. His feet padded on the soft carpet, and took him to the doorway of Lisbon's room. He stopped and Lisbon walked in, looking back at him.

'Come on,' she said, holding out her hand, 'Stay.'

Patrick stepped in, taking Lisbon's hand again. Lisbon motioned for Patrick to get into bed while she stepped out of her dress and slung it across the back of a chair and pulled her long football shirt on. She approached the bed and snuggled under the cover, pushing back into Patrick's shape and allowing his arm to fall around her waist. Patrick pushed his head into the valley of Lisbon's shoulder, wriggling into her warmth.

A smile crossed his lips as sleep began to claim him. 'Goodbye...' he whispered, inaudible to Lisbon.

**A/N: Tis the end. *cries* Thank you to EVERYONE who reviewed and hopefully will review now. I love you all so much. It's been great writing this, and hopefully, you might check out some of my other works. I do intend to write more mentalist in future, how could I not? Thank you again, and good luck with all your stories ^_^**


	19. Poll For Sequel?

_Hey there, to anyone who still has Whiplash on their story alerts, or to anyone who's still reading it after all this time (thank you everyone!)_

_I read through the Whiplash reviews a couple of days ago, and I'm just going to reiterate how much I love you all for them, but I thought that maybe if I could think up some good ideas and people would be interested, I might write a sequel in future...that's a might. But anywho, there's a poll on my page, so if you could go have a look at that, would be awesome :)_

_After I finish Red Letters...(that's another Mentalist fic I've been writing...would be very appreciative if you have a look if you haven't already!) I might try to think up some stuff for the Whiplash sequel. I actually have already...but there's not much. But yeah...poll people would be awesome :)_

_love._


	20. Sequel!

**_Ok! Chapter 1 of Whiplash sequel: Lash of the Whip, has now been published! Hope you'll check it out and enjoy!_**


End file.
